


Catching Up to the Past (if that's where you are)

by preciousghouls



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Coffee builds relationships, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Series is now in break! Ch5 is an epilogue draft, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, and they WILL get it., author is not educated in science and tech, author loses control over steve rogers, canon-typical angst, no beta we die like men, time travel canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousghouls/pseuds/preciousghouls
Summary: Everyone thinks that band on his ring finger belongs to Peggy Carter. But it doesn’t. It belongs to someone else who’s captured his heart for a long time, even before he realised it. But he’d never say it aloud. Not in his timeline.It belongs to Anthony Edward Stark.O RAnticipating his death, 2023!Tony had recorded a special message after the one he left for his family specifically for 2023!Steve. He has a favour to ask, and Steve is willing to oblige. But returning to 2012 has Steve wanting to change the past, and soon enough, he finds himself losing his grip on reality as he remembers it.





	1. whatever it takes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Marvel fic, because my heart cannot accept Tony Stark’s death, which is just so him to the end. Eyes, wide and staring and silently asking the questions he can’t voice out. I love you 3000 and more.
> 
> Also time travel is canon and FUCK if I don’t abuse that fact and birth an infinity worth of fix it fics to bring Tony back to life!!!!!!
> 
> Everything is canon compliant to the best of my memories. So if anything goes off from what you remember, well, please remind yourself that we _are_ venturing into a new timeline. Embrace the changes! (I mean, embrace my mistakes coughs)
> 
> I assure you that Pepper will NOT be hurt in the fix it. I love Pepper too much to break them up just because this is a Stony fic. I read that Pepper married Happy in the comics, so that’s what she’ll be here, in the alternate timeline. And Tony is okay with that. After all, Steve will be there for him.

_“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time.”_

 

-

 

It takes Steve two days to work up the courage. Because two days was the maximum possible given time to grief before the Infinity Stones need to be restored to their rightful places. “One second too late, and it’d cause wordly chaos,” Bruce had simplified the complications, with Doctor Strange nodding his approval.

Only two days since Tony’s death. One since the simple funeral they held for him. _Proof that_ _Tony Stark has a heart._ The words etched onto Tony’s first miniature arc reactor by his then friend and now wife, Pepper Potts. The image, the words, replaying in his mind, over and over. He’s never seen that before. Tony has never shown that to him, or the team for that matter. In that moment, it just made the fact that he’s _gone_ feel so… real.

Steve supposes he technically hasn’t worked up the courage.

Steve doesn’t realise he’s pacing like a madman till a woman steps up to him. “Captain America?” She greets, because she is an agent. An agent who apparently works as a guide in her spare time. “May I offer you my assistance?”

He forces his body to stop, and to turn to the agent fully, the respect he was raised to show. “Oh, um. Yes, actually.”

When Steve pauses, so does the agent, who looks at him expectantly. He clears his throat once when he feels it closing up. He doesn’t think he’s ready to say his friend’s name so casually, so he straightens himself and settles for a stiff, “I want to see what’s left.”

Her face changes. Softens. Steve may have seen her eyes gloss over, or maybe that’s just his own? But the agent nods, and in that split second her eyes clear, expression back to one of true neutrality. “Of course. Please follow me.”

Steve does. She leads him around the unfamiliar compound - Tony had prepared blueprints, left them in his home, where Pepper would easily find them. Blueprints of a new compound, a new home for them. _Them_ , because who even are the Avengers? All those who joined them for the second attack; Vision, Natasha, Tony, who are gone? The moment Thanos turned to dust, the moment the sounds of battle ceased, the moment Tony stopped _breathing_ and the crying stopped - the Avengers disassembled.

They have a new compound up almost immediately. FRIDAY took care of that - _Boss briefed me the same night he recorded his hologram message._ There are rooms for everyone in case they ever need a place to stay, even him. Even Bucky. He tries not to think about Natasha’s room. Or Tony’s, for that matter.

Now, standing outside the room of Tony Stark, who will never have the chance to step foot inside, Steve feels somewhat sick. The agent seems to empathise. “Will you be alright, sir?”

Steve thinks he manages a nod. Why is it hard to breathe? “Just- Can I have a private moment, agent?” _I didn’t even ask for her name,_ he realises.

The agent nods. “Of course, sir. I’ll let patrols know not to disturb you.”

“Thank you.”

Steve finally manages a shaky breath after she is gone. He just doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. Not yet, when the world still needs him to be strong. Closing his eyes and gathering whatever courage he can get, Steve turns the knob, and enters the room.

It shocks him at first, how similar the layout is to Tony’s old room back the Avengers facility five years ago. Looking closely, Steve spots some differences. The kind of thing you’ll never notice unless you’re so familiar, so intimate. Photos. Softened edges that make the room children friendly. Drawings. A low, king sized bed. The room of a husband, a father.

Things that remind him of their Avengers days sit in one corner, on top of a dresser. The arc reactor he had on his chest when he… died, his helmet. His sunglasses - Steve can almost picture his smirk. The last outfit he wore before battle. Steve’s legs feel weak, but he manages to place his hand against the cold helmet.

“God, _Tony…_ ”

Steve’s words trigger something. He recognises the whirring of machinery as they come to life. The room lights up, and a screen appears before him. Rubbing his eyes, they roam about the interface, but he doesn’t understand all this. Steve hears a familiar ding, followed by an equally familiar voice ringing inside this large, empty space.

“Good morning, Captain Rogers.”

“FRIDAY? Good morning to you too. Do you mind telling me what’s going on here?”

“I apologise, but I’m afraid Mr. Stark has kept me in the dark about what this… Oh.” And the way the AI gasps, so humane, has Steve in awe, because Tony was just… so... brilliant. He scowls internally at his lack of vocabulary. The words **Unread Message: 1** appears on the screen. Steve doesn’t allow himself to breathe.

“Boss… It seems Mr. Stark has left a hologram message. It also seems that it is addressed specifically for you, Captain Rogers.”

“Me?” It may have come out as a squeak. Why him, of all people?

“Yes. It was recorded a few days after the message he left for Ms. Morgan. Do you want to open the message, Captain Rogers?”

“ _Yes_.” It comes out in a rush, as though if he waits one second too long, the message will disappear. Self-destruct. _Something._ Steve doesn’t want to risk that. He tells himself to take deep breaths before trying again. “Yes. Yes, show me the message, please, FRIDAY.”

“Understood.” The mail icon expands, and bursts open in a flashy way that Steve will usually roll his eyes at. Today, he manages a small smile, because he can pretend for a second that Tony is here. And then -- he is. A hologram. So real, yet… Not Tony.

“Hey, Cap. Uh, just saying, but you might wanna sit down for this.”

It’s a miracle, but Steve manages a chuckle as he sits on the edge of the bed. Tony is looking directly at him, as though he _knows_. Steve thinks he might have.

“Well… If you’re seeing this, then I suppose my hunch was right in the end. I died, and the world is at peace, yeah? I mean, it better be at peace. There’s nothing else me and Nat would willingly die for, you know? What am I saying, _of course_ you know.” Steve watches as the hologram Tony links his hands behind his neck, licking his lips the way he did when he was nervous.

“And I’m recording this under the assumption that you are about to return the Infinity Stones. Like, right after seeing this. And you’re going alone, of course. If you’ve already done it, feel free to stop me now before I make a fool of myself. In fact, FRIDAY? I give you full permission to rip this message apart if that’s so. Just do it in a way that no one would be able to piece it together, okay hon?”

Hologram Tony huffs. “But if I’m right, and I’m 99.997% sure I am, then listen up, Cap, because this is the only time you’re going to hear this message.”

Steve nods, even though hologram Tony can’t possibly know that. It’s a force of habit, and he of all people understands how habits can be hard to kick.

A screen appears on top of the screen Steve’s already looking at, and he wonders if he should ask FRIDAY to record this recording, because what are the chances that Steve will be able to understand Tony’s tech language?

100%, apparently, because Tony is actually speaking English. Terms that a normal human - Steve - can understand. Or at least, he should, because he doesn’t. He thinks he doesn’t, because _what on Earth is Tony trying to say?_

He still hasn’t really registered Tony’s words when he hears, “And yeah, that’s about all I wanted to say. It’s your choice, Cap. No pressure. No sarcasm, by the way, just in case you were wondering.”

Hologram Tony approaches Steve, and he leans away. Sure, it’s a hologram, but he’s certain it will be more than a mildly disturbing if Tony went _through_ him. Tony pauses before where the recording button must be, and looks up, right at Steve, like how he did to Morgan in his other recording. This time, though, his smile looks a little grim.

“And Cap. Seriously, okay? Go get a life.”

Then hologram Tony disappears. An automated voice that of FRIDAY rings out, “Message self-destructing in five seconds... Four... Three... Two... One...”

There’s barely a sound, before: “Message self-destruct successful.”

Then, silence.

After what seems like an eternity, softly, “Oh Gods, FRIDAY. What do I do?”

 

-

 

The first thing Steve does upon the solo time-heist, of course, is to return the Stones to their rightful places. There is nothing worth risking the peace they’ve already sacrificed so much for. _Too_ much - it feels that way, at times. It takes him nearly two months, simply because he decided to come alone. Half the time, or more, is spent travelling through air or sea, for he doesn’t come with superpowers. But because Captain America is a man of honor, he eventually completes his task.

And the second thing he does, it goes without saying. He goes back in time to meet the love of his life, Peggy Carter, reliving the moment Wanda had shown him all those years ago. Except, instead of a nightmare, this is a dream come true; this is reality. He touches her, and she touches him back.

“You’re late,” she whispers, smiling and teary at the same time.

He’s smiling too, whispering back, “I know. Sorry. Just one hell of a day.”

Neither mentions Steve’s usage of language as they dance their promised dance. A day late, according to Peggy, voice wobbling, tears threatening to overflow. But Steve? He’s nearly 80 years late. And God, he missed her. Miss _es_ her, because even though she is right here, this isn’t his timeline, this Peggy Carter isn’t his, not really. Now, the real Steve Rogers has gone under ice, where he will remain for several decades to come. His heart starts thudding hard against his chest, the same nervousness he always feels around Peggy, as the song nears its end.

_Part of the journey is the end._

There is a knock on the front door, and Steve stumbles back, gasping for breath. Peggy shuts the radio, and ushers Steve into hiding, but Steve… His head is haunted by the images of Tony. Tony’s death, Tony’s hologram message to his daughter, Tony’s accusing words they never did hold a conversation about to the end, Tony speaking in his own weird tech language, Tony, Tony, Tony. Steve has a door shut in his face, and he is briefly aware that he was shoved into a rather small, packed closet. Yeah. Peggy sure felt small in his arms earlier. _Gods_.

The front door opens.

“Stark?”

“Carter.”

Steve hears rather than sees Peggy and Howard Stark share an embrace. Strangely enough, he doesn’t feel jealousy. Maybe because he knows they aren’t - and won’t ever be - in a relationship? Isn’t that why he’s come back? To fix things with Peggy? Steve’s tuned out the conversation happening just a few feet away, but the following words from Howard jolts him from his thoughts.

“Really, Carter? A lesser man might say you need to get a life.” They share a good-natured laugh, but Steve’s blood runs cold.

_And Cap. Seriously, okay? Go get a life._

They really are father and son, Steve thinks even as he fights an internal battle. The talk outside doesn’t last long; it seems Howard’s just dropped by for a hi-bye before he leaves for ‘a holiday’. This is a moment Steve Rogers shouldn’t be witnessing. Yet here he is.

Peggy opens the closet door, and while her eyes are smiling, her voice isn’t as bright as it was before. Her lips are still curled upwards as she offers Steve a hand, pulling him back out to the open. This is how it’d be if he wants to stay in the past, won’t it? Being secretive, making sure he isn’t found out.

_It’s your choice, Cap._

Peggy brings her hand to his cheek, and Steve closes his eyes, allowing himself to lean into the touch. So warm. So real. So _wrong_.

“You have to go, don’t you?”

His eyes open in panic, but Peggy’s are warm, knowing. “I…” His voice cracks. She presses a soft kiss to his lips, cutting him off.

“Shh… You don’t have to say anything, soldier. This is who you are. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you otherwise.”

It’s words he’s dreamt countless times of hearing, and he’s hearing them now. Steve finds himself tiring of feeling something heavy in his chest that’s making it so hard to breathe. He turns into Peggy’s palm, mumbling into it.

“I’m sorry. Thank you, Peggy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” There’s tears in her eyes as she answers, and Steve almost chooses to stay. But he can’t. He won’t. He’s already made his choice. He has to do it - who else will?

They both take a step backwards, and suddenly, Peggy is out of reach again. But she’s smiling the entire time. When he smiles back, when he turns away, when he loses the smile, he knows she’s still smiling. A single button puts him back in the suit, and he holds in his hand the tiny bottle of Pym Particle. He knows which time he needs to return to. To make things right, even if they’re wrong.

Steve slams down on the button, and there he goes. Captain America’s last chance with Iron Man. Steve Roger with Tony Stark. What was it he’d said? Oh, yeah.

_Whatever it takes._


	2. he totally kissed him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve tries too hard to keep things canon compliant and screws up. Potential domino and-or butterfly effect? Totally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about canon compliance? Steve doesn’t seem to agree. I guess he wasn’t lying when he said he’s way past asking permission.  
> Also: Tony as a canon genius inventor saves ass in fics

_“Please tell me nobody kissed me.”_

 

-

 

“If you somehow find yourself needing a safe place to hide for a bit, enter these coordinates.” Those were the words of Tony Stark to the team who travelled back to 2012 for the Infinity Stones. And those are the coordinates they entered into the device as a preset, as a failsafe of sorts. Turns out Steve’s returning to 2012 with these coordinates willingly.

When Steve feels his feet on the ground again, he no longer feels the nauseousness that usually accompanies the time-heist. Then again, he’s seen and experienced the weirdest of things. Not to mention he’s a super soldier with a purpose. And that, he’s learnt from Bucky, “makes him an even stronger soldier than he already is”.

 _Bucky._ Steve already misses his childhood slash best friend. Tony’s insisted in his message that Steve “ _must not tell anyone_ ” about, well, about his message. Tony is probably referring to its content and not the fact that he left Steve a message, but, contrary to popular (read: Tony) belief, he is perfectly capable of improvising from situation to situation.

Steve glances around his surroundings - he instantly recognises the SHIELD Helicarrier he’d spent much of his time on after he was recovered from the ice. The walls, the smell, the logo on the boxes he’s surrounded with. He feels the beginning of a panic attack when he thinks he’ll be found at any given second because _the coordinates brings him aboard the Helicarrier?_

Steve reaches into the back pocket of his Captain America suit (he’s thankful now for Tony who insisted on including modern back pockets on his pants, “I mean, who doesn’t sneak snacks in their back pockets?”, and Steve doesn’t, he really doesn’t) and pulls out a device which resembles a child’s toy.

It’s a holographic storage device of Tony’s - just one of his many inventions he’s never had the chance to perfect before he… you know. To be fair, he’s built it in one night. Adding on the figuring of the while time travel stuff, it’s pretty amazing. It has the capacity to store all the information of the things the Avengers have done, as a team or on their own. Their profiles. Places of interests… Etc cetera. Kind of like their own Wikipedia, Natasha had remarked with a smile.

“Just in case,” Tony had said. Over those last five years, he’d become a rather ’just in case’ kind of man. And just earlier FRIDAY had kindly noted and stored key information she’d picked up from Tony’s message for Steve’s ’potential reference needs’, as she had stated. Bits and pieces of Tony’s message replays in his head.

 _“Hey, Cap, you remember what Bruce relayed about changing the future? That even if we alter the past, it won’t be_ our _future?”_

Hologram Tony had looked to be deep in thought for a moment, then cleared his throat.

 _“Yeah. Meaning to say… Hm. Take for example, you time travel to marry the love of your life. Then you return to your present. And that’s the thing. You return to_ your _present. The one where you didn’t marry the love of your life. All you did in the past was to create a new future, a varying timeline for the people - for the Steve Rogers - who belongs in the past.”_

Steve had wanted to turn the message off. He had a feeling he knew what Tony was trying to say.

 _“And… Well, don’t you see it as a_ chance _?”_

Steve shakes the memory away, thumbs over the power slider to “ON”, and an interface is projected in the air. He types in his password, and there’s suddenly so much information Steve feels overwhelmed.

“FRIDAY, are you here?” He whispers. There’s no answer. Of course there isn’t. FRIDAY’s already told him she can’t be uploaded into this tiny, incomplete device. Steve was just hoping - the thing he does best. Have hope. When it becomes clear he’s alone, he gives the softest of sighs before navigating through the contents. Steve is adamant about ignoring the section labelled **Stark’s Guide on How to Get a Life** **_for_ ** **Steve Rogers**.

FRIDAY’s efficiency is a life-saver, and with the tap of the Search button (he just forgets that exists sometimes, because he’s used to giving commands through his mouth), Steve pulls up a blueprint slash map of Helicarrier and his current location.

Sure enough, the coordinates on screen are the same ones Steve’s entered. And according to the map, he’s in the back of the Helicarrier. The Warehouse section, or so it reads - described as an old, deserted area of the vessel no agent willingly ventures into. Steve supposes it’s true; he didn’t even know about the existence of this area of the vessel (then again, he’s always followed the rules, never venturing where he was unauthorised to). A perfect spot for Steve to temporarily hide the things he brought with him from the future.

Mainly because he realises he doesn’t exactly have a plan, Steve decides to unlock the briefcase. Opening it, he sees the cushioning specially designed to contain the six Infinity Stones. They’re empty now, the Stones restored to their rightful time and place. Steve removes the cushioning to reveal a second layer - there are a few sets of clothing he’s packed for travelling where he’d needed to keep a low profile, including his old suits, which takes up nearly no space thanks to nanotech. They’re reduced to the star on his chest, similar to Tony’s arc reactor.

As he changes into the clothes he wore on this day - with a cap this time, of course (he has to hold on to his shield, because while T’Challa managed to fix it, there simply wasn’t enough time to have everything nanotech-friendly and neither are his civilian clothing), Steve notices that there’s more weapons than what he’s packed, and shakes his head even as he smiles. Fury will never admit it, but he acts like a fatherly figure. There’s even pepper spray -- Gods, _Pepper_. Steve doesn’t know what he’ll say if - when? - he sees her. He doesn’t even know if he will be able to say anything--

 _“And, you know, that’s where I come in.”_ Tony had sounded hesitant.

_“If you decide to follow my advice for once in your life, there’s just one thing…”_

The world tilts. Steve loses balance and slams against the wall with a grunt. Boxes come tumbling at him, and he blocks his face with his arms, but thankfully the boxes are empty and do no damage. There’s the blaring sound of an alarm as his vision flashes red. It’s light from a beacon in the corner of the storage room.

A voice, loud but muffled, reaches his ears: “All hands to stations.”

Steve knows what’s happening. He’s been through it; one of the days he’ll never be able to forget, even if he wants to. He’s been back on this very day just two weeks ago, just slightly later in time, to restore the Infinity Stone. The Helicarrier is under attack by agents under Loki’s control. She’s going down, while the 2012 Steve and Tony are going to fix up the engine.

2023 Steve can’t just stand around and do nothing. He digs through boxes for the storage device and the briefcase, sliding the tiny object back into his back pocket. He grabs the star containing his 2012 outfit and shoves it in his front pocket; a handgun from the briefcase, slides it into the holster strapped to his waist, and find the most discreet spot possible to hide anything. He chooses the largest box he sees, and clumsily stacks a dozen boxes above it. That’s how things in a warehouse should look like. He takes a moment to look at his shield, before deciding _screw it_ and wraps it in cloth before hiding it between the boxes.

As Steve gets his fingerprint scanned for exit, there’s another aftershock, likely caused by the failure of the second engine. This time, he manages to hold his ground and the door slides open. Steve is hiding behind the walls in case of any patrols, but then again, even if there were, they’re all likely headed to where the fight is.

So he jogs freely. He’s memorised the key navigation points across the vessel from the blueprint, and throw in his super senses? Steve’s just about 100% sure he’s headed in the right direction. But he’s not exactly alone; he can hear it, the light sound of footsteps. The kind that scream “I’m a bad guy so I have to be silent when I walk” - provided you can ever hear the scream. Steve looks around for doors - any hiding spot, really - but there aren’t any. The footsteps are getting closer, and while Steve would rather not interfere where he doesn’t need to, the situation is unfortunately turning into just that.

He stops when he reaches the next corner, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And…

_Bang! Bang!_

Two shots, two agents down. Steve doesn’t kill them - they’re just under mind control, and really, he’s not back to kill even more people. He’s aimed for their tendons and hit his mark. Those five years after the snap and before the time heist? Steve hasn’t exactly been moping around and telling people to move on every day. He’s a soldier, with or without his shield, and he’s trained with the best they have (had, really, but let’s not go there right now) in firearm.

“Don’t hold it against me,” he apologises and moves on before he starts feeling bad for them. It surprises him when he faces even more agents - what are they doing all the way back here? There’s nothing here, unless there actually _is_ , but Steve doesn’t want to think too much about it and focuses on demobilizing them as he goes along.

A few rounds, several bodies and overhearing an agent’s “Agent Coulson is down” later, Steve finally reaches the door he’s looking for just in time for Fury’s last words to 2012 Steve as Tony leaves.

“Well, it’s an old fashioned notion.”

And he knows what 2012 him will be doing - self reflection on that very chair, as he stares at Coulson’s blood stained trading cards. He also knows where 2012 Tony will be. He knows this is when they need the push in the right direction. So he goes to the Detention section, where Loki had killed Coulson.

Steve walks up on the next platform, because he doesn’t trust himself too close to Tony. He tries to at least get himself comfortable, but it’s hard. He can go through this infinite times and still not know what’s a good conversation starter to someone who just lost a friend.

_Do we know if she had any family?_

“Was he married?” Way to go, Steve.

“No.” Tony doesn’t even turn as he says that with certainty. Then, less confidently, “There was a, uh, cellist. I think.”

Steve has to turn away. “I’m sorry.” For not being to do anything (again) and for asking. “He seemed like a good man.”

Tony turns to him then, scoffing. There’s pain in his eyes, an emotion Steve hates to admit he’s seen too much of with Tony. “He was an idiot.”

He has to ask. “Why? For believing?”

“For taking on Loki alone.” Tony steps back, and Steve knows he’s trying to walk away from him.

“He was doing his job.”

“He was way out of his league. He should’ve waited. He should’ve…”

Steve steps forward to meet Tony halfway.

“Sometimes there isn’t a way out, Tony.” Steve doesn’t manage to stop himself from saying Tony instead of Stark. An honest mistake on his end. Thankfully Tony seems too riled up to have noticed, or to make a remark about that slip up.

“Right,” he nods with mock enthusiasm, passing Steve. “How did that work out for him?”

No, Steve thinks. He can’t let Tony just walk away from him like this. The Avengers need to work together. He needs to prompt the genius out to the surface. But… How?

He stalls for time. “Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?”

It works. Tony turns back, sharply, and the glare Steve receives almost makes him want to take back the question. “We are _not_ soldiers.” Then, seeing Steve’s expression, he collects himself. “I’m not marching to Fury’s fife.”

“Neither am I,” Steve assures. “He’s got the same blood on his hands as Loki does. But right now we’ve got to put that aside and get this done. Now, Loki needs a power source. If we can put together a list…”

Tony’s eyes wander and land on something. Coulson’s blood stains, Steve realises. “He made it personal.”

And that’s when Steve knows Tony’s wheels are turning, he’s putting the pieces together, he’s getting it.

When he does-- “Son of a bitch.”

Tony hurries away, and there’s almost a tear in Steve’s eyes as he stays where he is and laughs, so damn thankful to be able to hear _that_ again.

Steve’s moment doesn’t last. When he remembers what comes next, Steve doubles back to the spot he’s arrived in, digs up his stuff, and takes one of the jets.

“Wait, Captain? But you just…”

The pilot is the same pilot he, Natasha and Clint took the first jet from. It’s a small world. “Sorry, not taking questions.” Then he knocks the poor guy out with his shield before anyone else arrives. He estimates three hours and ten minutes before the Chitauri army arrives.

Steve fires up the engine and he’s out in the air, but he isn’t sure where to go. Where he _can_ go. A place that is both accessible and secure. Preferably somewhere he can stay too. He pulls out the storage device again, because Tony’s live GPS tracker slash map is much better than what they have on the jet. He looks out for places for interest. 

There’s a location that catches his eyes, the same that had popped into his mind instantly, and he really, really shouldn’t follow up on it. Truly. He’s annoyed at himself for how fast it just... appears into his mind. Is this a cruel joke of fate, a laughable cycle he can’t seem to escape from?

As Steve has an internal debate with himself, he finds himself parking the jet on a high roof, and standing at the entrance of Peggy Carter’s doorstep in Washington, DC with the briefcase in hand. Yeah, he definitely memorised her phone number _and_ her address. Not creepy at all.

Also, he _just_ said goodbye to her a second time. Well, more like another 70 years to her, but can he really bring himself to do this to her, to them, again? Third time’s the charm, they say. But Steve has a feeling the kind of _charm_ he needs is different.

“Hello there.” It seems he isn’t given a choice in this matter.

Resigning to his fate, Steve turns - there’s Sharon Carter, staring at him with justified suspicions, and Peggy, on the wheelchair. She’s 88 this year, but she still looks so healthy, and she breaks into a bright, breathtaking smile when she sees him.

“Steve!” She sounds delighted, none of that shock when he visited her in the retirement home in 2016. This is without a doubt, the same Peggy he’d returned to dance with. Sharon leans down to her great-aunt, “You know him, aunt Peggy?”

“I’m…” Steve actually squirms under her gaze. It’s just a little awkward when he remembers he’s kissed them _both._ Gods, what was he thinking? Then he reminds himself - right, time travel wasn’t a thing back then. “I’m an old friend,” he finishes lamely.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Peggy turns to her great niece, patting her hand affectionately. “Sharon, darling, show him in, will you?”

“Peggy--” She really shouldn’t just invite him in like this. What if he’s not him, and… Just someone else. Like Loki?

“Oh, hush, you. I may be a someone’s great-aunt now, but I _am_ one of SHIELD’s founder.” And Steve smiles at that, because it’s true. She is. “Now, come on in, Steve.”

He does. He helps Sharon in supporting Peggy to her room, and they lay her down on bed with some difficulty, out of breath because gosh, simply existing seems like a chore when you’re past a certain age. Sharon’s phone rings and she leaves while Steve stays. He doesn’t say anything this time, just watches Peggy softly. Everytime he thinks he’s ready to say goodbye to his best girl? Well, he’s not.

When her breathing is even, Steve folds the wheelchair and sets it against Peggy’s bed before stepping out to the living area, where Sharon stands with her arms crossed.

“I suggest staying indoors for the rest of the day.”

“And who are you again, to ’suggest’ us to do anything?” Sharon snaps. “I don’t trust you.”

It sucks to be on the end of the one who can’t be trusted. “I’m with SHIELD,” Steve admits, because he and Sharon will be meeting officially soon enough. “And I needed a safe place to, well, crash. Temporarily.”

“With SHIELD,” Sharon repeats. Steve misses the Sharon he knows. His neighbor, his colleague, his friend. “ _I’m_ with SHIELD. On a break now, but still. I haven’t heard about you.”

And Steve thinks that’s his cue to leave. “There’s something going on in New York City. You can turn on the news. I have to go back there, now.”

“Then give me a lift.”

“What?” Steve’s sure he’s heard wrongly.

“That was a distress call from SHIELD. I have no idea what’s going on, but they need every available agent in New York City immediately.”

“No.” Steve answers on default.

Sharon blinks in what appears to be disbelief. “Pardon?”

“It’s not safe.” He’s seen the destruction the Chitauri caused. He doesn’t need to relive that knowing there’s one more acquaintance of his there.

“I’m a SHIELD agent.” Sharon makes a gesture with her hands, like that overrides everything. At some point in his life, Steve thought so too. Now, he values lives over everything else.

“Peggy will be alone,” he tries a different approach.

“We’re in Washington, DC, genius. Aunt Peggy will be much safer here. SHIELD enhanced protection, courtesy of Director Fury.”

Why is everyone in his life so good at arguments? Or maybe Steve’s just bad at it.

“You don’t know me,” he tries one last time.

“I know your first name is Steve, _Steve_. Minusing how you know something’s up in New York before I did, that briefcase you’re carrying with you? That’s Level 10 clearance material. An agent knows where she stands.”

 _Oh, damn._ Even Steve hasn’t thought about that. “Plus, even if you don’t give me a ride, I’ll get there in my own car.”

Steve raises his hand in surrender. “Okay, you’ve convinced me, Agent Carter. Grab whatever you need, and let’s go. It’s okay if I leave the briefcase here, right?”

“You’re the boss of me for this moment anyway, so whatever you say, boss.”

Steve manages a smile. This is almost familiar. “Alright then. Suit up, Agent.”

The ride in the jet is mostly silent, and just a little awkward. Sharon doesn’t ask where he’s from, how he knows Peggy, what is that large thing he’s carrying on his back, why he isn’t communicating with SHIELD like agents should, what’s his last name.

An explosion in the distance sparks conversation. “What was that?”

Then she sees the hole in the sky, the _things_ flying out of it, the smoke rising from the city. “What _is_ that?”

“The Chitauri,” Steve grits out. “Alien invasion led by the God Loki.”

“Wow,” Sharon gasps.

“Yeah, wow.” It’s technically his third time experiencing this, but a part of Steve - the same part that finds comfort in vintage cafes, 40s music, the feeling of a weapon on his body - still finds the whole thing insane.

_Approaching destination in approximately one minute._

“Hold on tight, Agent. Chances are it’s going to be a rough land.”

And because Sharon is smart, she holds on tight. The moment they pass the first high rise building, the jet is under attack. Steve fires back, of course; but one jet v.s. an army of aliens from all directions? No matter how prepared he may be, there’s no victory in sight here. A wing is broken, and the jet goes crashing down just like it did when he was with Natasha and Clint. But Steve’s a man who learns. He’s been flying low this whole time in an area he recalls to have little to no people, and the crash is more of a bumpy landing at best. Or worst, depending on who you ask.

It’s easy to break out of the jet with his super strength, and he helps Sharon out, giving orders before she can ask anything. “Go help evacuate the citizens. If you see any of the aliens, do _not_ engage. Run like hell.”

She looks ready to argue. Steve’s not backing down on this one. Sharon can’t die because he’s stupid and made an alteration to the past. He won’t allow it.

“Do you understand, Agent?” He says in his best Captain voice. She nods stiffly. Thank God.

“And what will you do?”

“What I do best.” _I fight._

Steve charges at the first creature he sees once Sharon is out of sight, whipping his shield from his back and slamming it into the shrieking face. The cloth rips from the impact and Steve is fine with that. Slapping the star on his chest, he flings his shield like a frisbee, slicing all in its path like butter. By the time its back in his hands, Steve looks just like his 2012 counterpart.

He goes by the small alleys, the underground, jumping over rooftops. Avoiding the Avengers and the mass while helping in the shadows. It’s selfish, but every one more person he can save right now, in the past? Steve will. And that? That’s his first, unofficial mistake.

And, well, where first mistakes are made, the second soon follows.

It’s a group of three - a man and two young kids. A dad and his children, or maybe a man and two random kids. Who knows? It doesn’t matter; Chitauri soldiers approach them, weapons at the ready. Steve doesn’t hesitate, just jumps in their direction and holds up his shield, deflecting the beams from their guns.

Of course, there’s no way Steve could’ve known. How could he? The deflected beams take down some of the Chitauri, but all it takes is that one beam which breaks a lamp post. The broken half of the post falls, crashing into a Chitauri on its Chariot. The Chariot loses control, spinning till it finally explodes.

Right in 2012 Captain America’s face.

“ _Shit_.” Steve groans inwards when the children blink at him.

“Go in that direction,” he points where he knows Sharon will be. “Authorities will lead you to safety, okay? Get them safe,” Steve adds to the man who nods and basically carry both kids in his arms and runs in the pointed direction. If only everybody listened as well as him in dire situations like this.

Where was he? Oh right. _Shit._ Steve sprints to his counterpart, and… Yeah, he’s knocked out cold, a cut under his left cheek, another across his bottom lip. Some gashes where machinery cut into his suit. Steve scans the area. Good; it seems mostly evacuated. Nobody’s here to see him carry his counterpart slash doppelganger (again, all depending on who you ask) toward the sounds of battle.

Steve ducks when Tony flies past him, but he wouldn’t have noticed either way - he’s flying faster than he usually does, even in battle. Steve rips the earpiece from his 2012 self before tossing him in a car, and plugs it into his ear just in time to hear Natasha:

“...body hear me? I can shut the portal down!”

His throat closes up at the sound of her voice. He’s this emotional, and he hasn’t even seen her _face_ . Steve knows here, he’s supposed to order _Do it!_ , but he can’t, not when he knows what comes next.

“Wait!” Tony’s voice cuts in. “I got a nuke coming in. It’s gonna blow in less than a minute. And I know just. where. to. put. it.”

Steve feels obliged to mention, to _warn_ , “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip?”

At least he got it right this time. _Stark._ Everything else? Steve feels powerless. He knows this trip into the portal is the beginning of everything. This Tony will suffer the same nightmares for years to come. And Steve can only watch as he disappears inside and everyone cheers, not knowing what Tony is about to go through. That he is able to meet his demons for the first time. 

Steve waits. And waits. Thor lands beside him, nodding. “Close it.” He says it confidently, because he knows Tony will make it through. And there he is -- falling without slowing. _Attaboy._

Next to him, Thor starts spinning his hammer to gather energy. “He’s not slowing down.”

And Hulk gets him, landing just a few feet away with a roar, dropping the suit of iron. Steve rushes to him, pulling that faceplate away. He can’t wait for Hulk to do that almighty roar. He has to make sure. He has to.

“FRI…” _Damn it._ He corrects himself. “JARVIS, how’s his heart rate?”

For a moment, there’s no answer. “ _JARVIS!_ ” Steve repeats, more urgently.

From the faceplate he’s tossed aside, “...I can’t sense one, sir.”

 _Shit!_ Steve starts to perform CPR, but remembers Tony’s in a _stupid suit of armor._ Seeing no other way out, he pinches Tony’s nose with one hand, and places another beneath his chin, parting his lips and closing his mouth over Tony’s for mouth-to-mouth. He blows all the air he can muster into Tony’s lungs and it better reach him, because no way he’s letting Tony die even earlier than he did in Steve’s timeline. But it’s way past the effective time frame of mouth-to-mouth, Steve knows it. He just doesn’t want to stop. He eventually does, because _he’s_ out of breath.

Steve looks up at Thor. He looks… apologetic. A little sad, maybe. But nothing close to how Thor grieved over Natasha and Tony back in 2023. That’s when Hulk roars, and Tony-- the bastard’s eyes shoot open, wide and confused as they dart around.

“What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me?”

Steve breaks into a relieved grin and feels the strength leave him. “We won.”

“And Rogers totally kissed you.”

Steve turns to Thor with an exhausted look. “Thor, man, seriously?”

And that will soon become the least of his worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is steve's vocab reduced to "gods" and "damn" and "shit"? hell yes.
> 
> thank you all for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! it means the universe to me. the story started out REALLY angsty, because i had just come out of the theatre sobbing over tony at 5:30am. but now? now, in this fic? i just want. to get to some fluff already. gdi, steve, get working!
> 
> and yes, the scene after phil's death? steve used "tony". it's, i believe, the only time steve uses his first name in the film. totally jumped on that


	3. Intermission #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawarma is delayed, Peggy and Sharon, almost AU-like Stony meeting in a cafe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the love! this intermission was meant to cover up to the events of TWS, but that will take a long, loooooooooooong time, with how i keep returning to the movies.  
> so here is part 1 of an intermission, things that (mostly) take place BTS/weren't shown on screen. also, we finally find out what 2023 tony asked of steve! hope you enjoy chapter 3!

 

 

_“You trust me?”_

_“I do.”_

 

-

 

“Thor, man, seriously?” Moments after he says that, Steve can see - sense - 2012 him begin to stir faintly from the corner of his eyes, even as Tony manages to sit himself up with a very Tony look on his face.

And in the same, exasperated tone Steve had used, “ _What?_ Capsicle, seriously?”

And no, Steve is definitely not dealing with _that_ right now. So he nods in the direction of Stark Tower, “Guys? What do you think about heading up there now before Loki get anymore ideas that threatens the fate of the world?”

Thor is the first to sober up, his smirk fading. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll head up there first. Catch up as soon as you can.” Swinging his hammer, Steve watches as Thor flies to where Loki is, the Hulk leaping after him. It’s times like this that Steve wonders why the serum didn’t come with super calves that’d let him jump eighty storeys high. Or even five storeys. That’d still be better than running up and down stairs (there’s elevators now, but he may be holding a little grudge over the time back in 1940s).

He and Tony stare at each other for a moment. Then Tony shrugs and waggles his armored fingers. “Need a lift?”

 _Yes, please._ “No, it’s okay. I’ll jog back and check if there’s any civilians that needs help on my way.”

“Huh.” Tony grunts as he gets himself back on feet. Steve’s still on the ground, strength not fully back. Age may just very well be catching up. “’Aight then, see you up there… Uh, where’s my faceplate? JARVIS? Hello?”

“I’m right here, sir,” JARVIS answers from where the faceplate was tossed. One may say it’s because he’s an AI, but Steve can hear the passive aggressiveness in JARVIS’ monotone. Just like his creator. “Captain Rogers had to pull the faceplate off to perform Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation on you, sir. Seeing as you were in no condition to remove the armor, the captain-”

“Okay, _alright._ JARVIS, you can stop right there. Jesus, who programmed you?”

“You did, sir,” JARVIS sounds smug to both Steve and Tony’s ears as the latter picks his faceplate up, slapping it back in place.

“Don’t get all smart with me just cause I give you all this leeway, J. What was I thinking?” Tony adds, muttering more to himself, then almost like an afterthought, he turns to Steve, “See you up there,  Cap. Don’t take too long.” And he’s gone. Leaving Steve and his counterpart. Again.

Steve taps the star on his chest and he’s back in civilian clothing, though he lost the cap. Why isn’t there a cap that makes use of nanotech, or a costume that comes with a stash of caps? Oh, right. Cause they aren’t custom made for him. Dammit. He picks up a ripped curtain and clumsily wraps his shield, dropping it at his feet.

He gives himself five seconds to decide whether he wants the star in his pocket, poking at him with every step he takes, or-

Well, he doesn’t really need to think about it. Preparing himself for whatever it may mean, Steve reaches under his shirt and slaps the star against the center of his chest, and there’s only a light zap before it does whatever it’s meant to do in order to stay where Steve placed it, like hot glue. Looking at Tony, Steve’s always thought the arc reactor would be painful, uncomfortable, foreign. But he supposes… It’s alright?

The car rattles, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

2012 Rogers is trying to kick the door open. Steve rolls his eyes and pulls it open, because the door is perfectly functioning and was not locked. Trying to look anywhere but himself, Steve extends a hand and he grips himself tightly, pulling him out of the car. The moment 2012 Rogers is on his feet, Steve turns his back on him, trying to look smaller and anything but Captain America.

“Ugh, my head. Did you bring me here when I was out cold. Thank you for your help, sir. But you shouldn’t be in the city now. You need to get out of here, right now.”

Steve jolts when he feels a hand on his shoulder and jerks away in the most suspicious looking way. He doesn’t need to turn to know 2012 him is frowning with a confused look. Steve clears his throat and attempts to deepen his voice. “Actually, your friends… The people dressed in those Halloween looking costumes? They said they won, and they’re going to some guy named Loki…”

It works like a charm. Rogers’ hand is gone, and his boots crunch on the debris surrounding them. “Loki! Right, I have to get to Loki. Really, I’m very thankful for your help. Please call out to me if you ever see me on the streets, it’d be my honor to share a meal with you.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. An honor,” Steve answers even as his mind goes _No way._ He only allows himself the smallest of sighs when he’s unable to hear his own footsteps. Now, he _did_ mention that he was going to aid the civilians… He picks up his shield again, and jog down the street.

Some minutes after Steve turn away from Stark Tower, a 2023 Tony in his Mark LXXXV shows up in the air with Ant-Man, here for the Tesseract.

-

It’s always when Steve begins to think _Almost done_ when things happen. Always. At this point, he’s ashamed he hasn’t seen it coming. His hair is an intended mess of curls covering parts of his face as he sees what he hopes is the last civilian on this street safe with the authorities. Even when wrapped, the shield on his back is proving to be cause of conversation. He’s heard a few variations (at least four) of “Doesn’t he look like that dude dressed like Captain America earlier?”.

He’s ready to leave, to find a way back to Peggy’s house because the Quinjet is in pieces and he-- well, he doesn’t have cash on him. If he can at least find a bike amidst the mess…

Steve’s forgotten about the transceiver in his ear he took from his counterpart until a sound close to the aftermath of an explosion has him jerking and reaching to pull the thing _out_. It takes a few seconds for the ringing to stop, and Steve presses it against his ear again.

“Loki,” Thor’s voice booms, loud and full of anger, confusion. “Where’s Loki? Where’s the Tesseract?”

Steve’s heart sinks when he realises he’s returned back in time to the universe where he was just two months ago, where Tony and Scott had failed to get the cube, only for Loki to use it to escape. And most likely due to the fact that he’d kissed - he really means _conducted emergency mouth-to-mouth on_ \- Tony, the Steve who came to return the stones… isn’t here. Or maybe he has returned the Mind Stone, just did not make it to the Tesseract. What are the chances?

At this point in time, Steve doesn’t ponder over it. He just needs to take action, because he’s lived long enough to learn that sometimes that moment of hesitation costs _everything_.

But… What _can_ he do?

Voices overlap in his ear, all about looking for the Tesseract (Loki is an afterthought, only because he’s the one who possesses the cube now) but never one about how. Steve has to bite on his inner lip to keep from barking orders, to provide information from the future that may help (but in return, what will he lose next?). If he interferes further, what else will change? _It’s not worth the risk._

2012 Rogers must still be out cold after hand-to-hand with 2023 Steve. Poor guy, suffering more than he’s supposed to because of alternate future selves. But this will enable Steve to join the search long enough to give instructions that’ll lead them in the right direction.

Thor saves Steve the trouble. “I must return to Asgard. My father will know ways to track the Tesseract’s energy and lead us to Loki.”

Immediately after, there’s a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder which he recognises as Thor going home. There’s a huff from Tony. “The big guy and I can do it too. Anyway, shawarma first? I’m _really_ hungry now. Can we just wait for the God and Cap there?”

“Wait for me _where_ ?” Steve’s voice abruptly joins the conversation. Not _Steve_ , but 2012 Rogers (it confuses even himself, at times). The super soldier serum never seems to keep him down for long. “I intercepted Loki on the 14th floor, but he managed to escape. Did the scepter give him the power to look into our heads?”

“It’s not impossible,” Clint interjects. “I mean, he screwed with _my_ head pretty badly. He got you too?”

“Yeah… Yeah, kind of. Where’s Thor?”

Steve know what his counterpart is thinking. _Bucky is alive,_ Steve had told him for the sake of getting the scepter. He just hopes that doesn’t come back and bite him in the ass as well.

“He went back to his home to look for clues about where Loki may be.”

“Anything we can do to help?”

“No,” Tony snaps. From his tone alone, Steve can guess he’s sulking, hand on his hip and staring with a ’I dare you to talk back to me’ look. “Shawarma first. I called ahead, don’t make me cancel on them.”

2012 Rogers sigh, as if exasperated. He probably is. “Alright, Stark. I guess we could all use a meal first? Someone help Doctor Banner regain his senses?”

“On it,” Natasha answers. 

Others mumble their agreement as Tony not quite whispers a “Yes!” under his breath. There is a click from the transceiver as it turns silent. The power source has been turned off. With (begrudgingly) not much of a choice, Steve picks an abandoned bike on the road, and he’s on his way back to Peggy’s.

 

-

 

It’s nearly dusk when Steve parks the bike in a designated spot. Dusk, because he rode a _bicycle_ back. When it’d begun to drizzle (it hadn’t, back then), Steve had wondered if he should’ve just taken his motorcycle. But that wouldn’t be fair to his 2012 self, he’d tell himself.

Steve’s heart rate accelerates when he finds the front door unlocked, but it is silent when it creaks open. The lights have been flipped on, and… Ah, there Peggy is, rocking gently on a rocker, back faced to him. He can’t see her face, but there’s nothing in the direction she’s looking at. Just a plain wall (who is he to judge? Natasha also seemed to have a fascination with walls).

“Hey, Peggy.” His voice seems too loud in this house, which he now is able to see that it’s small. Smaller than what he’s grown used to, but it’s home. His steps are quiet, and when he reaches Peggy his words still seem to echo in his ears. She turns to him in slow motion, breaks into a smile. This Peggy smiles a lot. Her hair may be gray, her skin may be wrinkled, but when she says, “Steve.”, it’s like no time has been lost, like he’s never gone under the ice for eighty years.

He kneels by the rocker, taking her hands in his. “Where’s Sharon?”

“Oh, that girl’s busy. Just called to apologise that she won’t be back for a few days until things in NYC is stable. What on earth happened there?”

Steve keeps his smile on his face. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just some otherworldly force at work, and trying to kill humanity.”

Peggy’s smile widens into a child-like grin. “Just like old days.”

 _Not that old,_ is Steve’s first thought. But thinking back now, his WWII memories are getting further, replaced by newer memories. And oddly enough, he finds himself to be okay with that. “Just like old days.”

They share a brief moment of comfortable silence. Then, “Steve, dear, can you look in the second drawer?”

Peggy nods towards the dresser next to the rocker. Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Peggy referring to him like he’s a child. Like he’s younger (well, he _looks_ younger, but Steve too is over a century old by now). But he does as he’s told, reaching for the handle of the second drawer and pulling it open.

“It’s a… jewellery box?” His statement ends as a question, because he’s not really sure. He hasn’t exactly been around civilian women much even after coming out from the ice. Still the clueless man he was back then, it seems.

Peggy smiles, this time the brightest she’s shown him, and even missing all her teeth, it’s one of the most beautiful smiles Steve has seen. “It’s yours.”

“Mine?” The word comes out before he can help it, incredulous. Peggy has a gift for him? What? His heart speeds into an unhealthy range as she prompts him to look inside. Carefully, as though the box is so fragile it may turn to dust at the slightest touch, Steve lifts the cover… He gasps, soundless.

“It’s your dog tag,” Peggy confirms, and he can tell she’s pleased at the reaction she’s gotten from him. And Steve… Steve doesn’t know what to make of this. Why is it with Peggy? Well, he has a pretty good idea why _she_ has it, but he’s lost about why she’s _kept_ it all this time.

Peggy seems to read his mind. “Howard had retrieved it, after you were deemed… deceased. It wasn’t hard, everyone knew you were special to him. Then you showed up, and we had that dance. I never told him, but I asked him for this. Just in case. And here we are. There may be two Steves now, Steve, but this? It’s for you, who came back for our dance.”

Steve always tries to come up with something to say. Now, there are no words. A dog tag to a soldier means many things. Identity. Status. Comfort. To Steve, it used to be a proud, physical proof that he’s achieved all he’s ever wanted.

“Thank you, Peggy,” he manages to choke out, stroking the embossment of his name on the tag. It’s cool to the touch, yet searing upon his skin. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Steve.”

He clutches it in his hand tightly. One day, he may wear it around his neck once more. One day.

 

-

 

The following days are rather uneventful, Steve supposes. Even after the events of Civil War (he thinks about that always), Steve and Natasha and Sam has always been going around, looking out for trouble. It’s just who he _is._ And the five years he’s spent after everyone got dusted, he’s never stopped hoping, never stopped searching. For a way, for a solution, for a reason to fight.

Maybe that’s why he’s so tense whenever he hears the Avengers name come up on the news.

“Steve, for gosh sake,” Peggy would chastise him whenever he breaks a plate, or a cup, or whatever object is closest to him. He’ll give a sheepish smile, apologise, and she’ll shake her head, and go back to what she’s doing.

It’s like the word _Avengers_ triggers his muscles, making him twitch involuntarily, demanding his full attention. And he sees what he never wanted to look at back then- the him all those years ago. The way people praised them, thanking them, others denying their existence. He sees little kids dressed as them, posing as Avengers like they are their heroes. And Steve sees, they _are_. They’re known as the group of superheroes who saved New York from an alien invasion.

Back then, Steve might’ve frowned. Might’ve thought they shouldn’t be advertised like this. Now, he just sees them as happier times. He wonders how the team felt when they saw this. How they feel _now_ , in the present.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” Peggy murmurs from the couch where she’d decided to take a nap on. “On TV. It’s kind of crazy, how time travel is real in the future.”

Her eyes sparkle with interest, but Steve doesn’t share her excitement. What brought him back isn’t anything he’d want to share proudly. He’s here to fulfill the final wish of a dear, dead friend.

 

-

 

Steve waits for Sharon to make a trip back to greet her aunt before taking any action. He knows she will; she had moved in as his neighbor weeks after he’d gotten his own apartment, and he’s seen her belongings here. He spends his spare time cleaning up the house (it’s the least he can do), keeping the fridge stocked, chatting with Peggy (he may finally be beginning to move on the more they talk; he’s come to terms that they’d missed each other this lifetime).

And in the dead of the night, when Peggy’s asleep in her room, Steve will rock on the rocker, looking through folders in Tony’s storage device. Rewinding memories. It’s funny how memories seem to be the only thing Steve ever has, no matter _when_ he’s living in. He reads through the in-depth profiles of his teammates, and wow, who knew Clint used to be deaf, and that one of Stark Industries’ failed experiments years back turned out to be the breakthrough needed for one of the first cures mankind had for hearing loss? Steve sure as hell didn’t.

There’s so much stuff on Tony compared to the rest (it _is_ Tony’s invention, after all, he should know himself well enough for a thousand page essay) Steve hasn’t gone through a quarter of it by the day Sharon returns, a week and two days after the invasion.

“Hey,” Steve greets from the kitchen where he’s washing the vegetables. He thought he should cook once in a while, instead of Peggy always (it’s also because he isn’t fond of peas, but Captain America can’t possibly say that). He turns the tap off, dries his hands, and turn to face her.

Sharon doesn’t return the greeting. Her face is grim, almost sour when she sees Steve. The door clicks behind her, and she presses her back against it, as though she wants to be as far away from Steve as possible while staying in the same room. Steve spares a quick glance in the direction of the bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, but Peggy shouldn’t be able to see or hear anything going on out here.

“What did you do to aunt Peggy?”

“Nothing. She’s probably taking an afternoon nap now. I’m preparing dinner for us.”

“Who _are_ you?” Her hand sneaks behind her; Steve knows it’s a gun. He’s seen her in action. And he isn’t intimidated.

“You already know my name. Steve. My last name is Rogers.”

“Captain America?” Her words are strained. Forced.

“Yes.” Steve keeps his voice calm, reasonable.

“Then who is that Director Fury asked me to keep watch over?”

“Also Steve Rogers.” He keeps his eyes on hers. This way she’ll know he tells the truth.

“The very same?”

“Yes and no.”

She wrinkles her nose, frowning. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know.” Steve gives an apologetic smile, because there’s not much he dares to say. Something tells him if he screws up here, in this divergent timeline, he’d never be able to live with himself. “You just have to trust me. That man on the screen is Captain America. And I’m just Steve Rogers.”

Sharon shakes her head. “You need to give me a better explanation than that.”

“This is all I can give, neighbor. For your own good.”

“ _For my own good._ God, you sound like an old man.”

Steve chuckles. “I kind of am. Return from the ice and all that.”

“Alright. I won’t pry.” She straightens herself, hands by her side. Steve’s actually taken aback. Sharon Carter, if not anything else, is persistent. “You won’t?”

“After an alien invasion and Gods, seeing a doppelganger isn’t as earth-shattering anymore, you know? Plus both Intel and my gut says you’re a friendly. That should mean something.”

“It does.” Steve has a wide smile on his face now. “It means the world to me.”

It’s untimely, how her stomach grumbles at that exact moment. But then they break into laughter, and from behind the door Peggy shouts, “What’s going on?” and Steve thinks this is something he had wanted as Steve Rogers the man, all those years ago. Maybe some part of him still wants it today. That part, he decides, needs to be locked away.

 

-

 

Sharon has to leave today. Right now. She’s only been back a day and a half. _Duty calls,_ she laughs. It’s still a little tense between them, but she’s taking it much better than Steve ever would’ve. Then again, he’s only known a world of war. It should be obvious by now that things are vastly different in this modern world.

“Take it easy on me, okay,” he jokes. “If anything happens, call me.” He’s been given an old flip phone of Sharon’s. It works, so he’s not complaining. Plus he’s more comfortable with it anyway.

“Even if you went down to get a bagel?” She jokes back.

“If the world looks like it could use an extra pair of hands,” Steve corrects. His expressions turns serious. “He doesn’t know who you are, Sharon.”

“I know. To him, I will be just his friendly neighbor Kate.”

“And, uh,” Steve clears his throat, because what he’s about to say next is a topic he doesn’t see himself getting used to, _ever_. “Maybe don’t flirt with him too much?”

Sharon raises her brows at that, clearly taken aback at his words. Then she laughs in a hysterical (there’s no other word for it) manner that has Steve flushing badly. “You know, Steve, you’re really bad at trying to keep secrets.”

Steve thinks about Siberia. About the brief words that were exchanged there.

 

_Did you know?_

_I did._

 

_He’s my friend._

_So was I._

 

If only she knew.

“Come back and visit her sometime,” he says instead, because Sharon is just moving to another part of Washington.

 

-

 

Steve buys himself brown contact lenses, and finds a part-time job. Sure, Peggy’s assured him that he’s not imposing, but it just doesn’t feel _right_ , doing nothing when he knows somewhere out there in space, Thanos is looking for the Infinity Stones. He just wishes he’d given it more thought before sending himself back here. So much for being a master tactician.

Getting a job is easy enough with his super strength, and looks, according to to some of his interviewers. He’s never really considered himself handsome. People like Bucky, Sam are handsome in his eyes. Thor, at times. Tony, when he isn’t ruining his life.

Steve takes on a job close to Peggy’s home. It’s a warehouse, mostly manual labor, which he’s fine with. He has the transceiver in his shirt pocket at all times, alongside the storage device (he only ever wears polo shirts with chest pockets, because that’s all Peggy’s late husband used to wear, and it so happens that they didn’t have uniforms for part-timers). On his break, when he’s munching on bread or just sitting in a corner resting, he places the transceiver in his ear, listening to nothing. Just for comfort. Something familiar.

Tony walks in on his second part time job one morning - a coffee shop, because he gets to wear a uniform (the material is thick, hiding the protruding star on his chest) and cap and get intel - nearly two months after the invasion. He’s in his usual pair shades, matched with a T-shirt and pair of jeans Steve’s seen rather commonly during his stay at the Avengers tower.

“Takeaway. Hot coffee. Black.” He says simply. Steve doesn’t recognise him. Of course; that’s part of the reason for the disguise. To _not_ be recognised. Steve stares at him blankly, an unexpected reunion when the world isn’t under some form of threat. Tony looks tired, behind the shades. His eyes are bloodshot. Steve wonders what he’s doing down here?

“Uh, hello? You okay there…” Tony glances at his name tag, frowns a little. “...Rogers?”

Steve swallows, lowers his head, and punches in Tony’s order. “Sorry, sir. Hot coffee, black, takeaway, yes?”

“Please.” Tony hands Steve a note before he can tell him the price. “Keep the change. I’m in a rush.”

Steve accepts the note. “A date?”

_Wow, where did that come from, Steve?_

“Um-”

“Gosh, I wish I’m up this early for a date, but no.” Tony’s lips pull down in a pout. “I have a meeting with a mean one-eyed Jack later. Set up by my date.”

With Fury, by Pepper. Steve understands the reference. About the Helicarrier, perhaps? His co-worker passes him the coffee, which he passes to Tony. He tries for a bright smile. “I’m sorry to hear that. If it helps, I hope you have a nice day.”

Tony picks up his coffee and winks at him. “Thanks, dear. You know, you share the same last name as one of my colleagues, but I think I am liking you way more than him so far.”

Steve can guess. “I’m honored, sir.”

 

That night, Steve lays on the couch, blue hologram shining on the ceiling as he looks at the folder detailing the relationship of Tony Stark & Pepper Potts. He’s looking, but not really _seeing_. His vision is blurry, hazy. Steve closes his eyes.

_“If you decide to follow my advice for once in your life, there’s just one thing…”_

_Hologram Tony had looked right at Steve. He’s never looked more resolute and scared at the same time._

_“Could you. You know. Just. Somehow. Pose as the other Steve. Something. I’m stalling. Please make sure Pepper doesn’t end up with me. She doesn’t deserve it, Steve. She deserves someone... More normal. Not me. Happy, maybe. Just... I’m counting on you. No, wait. Forget that. No pressure, ’kay? Just go enjoy your life, Cap.”_

But it was too late. Steve heard him, loud and clear. I’m counting on you.

Words of trust, from Tony. Things hasn’t exactly worked out the way Steve (and probably Tony) wanted it to so far, but hey. One of the ways humans improve is by improvising, right?

 

-

 

Months of peace, calm, and planning later, news of the Mandarin has reached the people. Steve knows it’s time to act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please keep kudos and comments coming, they're fuel to my fingers to keep me writing and writing and writing!  
> if there's any specific scene you amazing people would like covered, please feel free to lmk as well <3


	4. Intermission #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve visits tony in his home to stop the mandarin incident from escalating.  
> that's it. that's the whole chapter. same day as tony and pepper's date night in IM3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! very much sorry that this chapter took way longer than i thought it would. kind of hit a wall when i realised the story isn't headed where i really want it to (rip)  
> this chapter is a perfect example of when an author goes "screw it!" and does what she want in her fic. meaning, less trying to shove plot, and more steve/tony moments!

 

_~~“I have to protect the one thing that I can’t live without. That’s you.”~~ _

 

-

 

Steve had started being actively fed current news a while before the whole Mandarin attacks thing blew up. But back then, he hadn’t known Tony would’ve gotten involved. Nobody did. Steve couldn’t do anything, because by the time news of Tony Stark having gone missing hit the papers after an attack on his mansion, he was already presumed dead. And Steve? A part of him grieved, a part of him was in disbelief, but he had gone on with his missions, because there were still things he had to do.

Not this time, not if Steve can help it (he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t).

Once the news reach his ears, Steve’s quit his full-time job at the warehouse. He’s not so irresponsible as to take time off not knowing when or what may happen. In his letter of resignation, he includes a list of faults in the company that should be improved to ensure happiness in employees. First hand experiences makes one want to give advice, he reasons with himself.

On the ride back as a jobless man, Steve buys an outfit matching what he wore in this time - plain gray shirt, a leather jacket, a pair of pants, and a baseball cap. It’s almost funny, how he has to disguise him as  _himself_. But what’s different is this Steve worked and earned his keep, because he wants to and not out of some form of duty.

Changing into the outfit and packing his basic necessities into a backpack, Steve shoots a long text to Sharon, so long it’s split into two parts, because that’s what old phones do. The first half, he asks for a favor, and to quote exactly:

**Need a favor.**

**Can you keep your neighbor busy for the week? Just make sure he doesn’t have time to see the news.**

Then, immediately after, he shoots out the second half… Asking for access to her motorcycle which she’s left in the garage. Steve’s been saving up for one, but he’d underestimated the consequences of inflation (also, his job may have been underpaying him. A lot. But he might keep the relaxing coffee job.) and am still some thousands away from the bike he’s been eyeing. Things were so much easier when they came from SHIELD.

His phone vibrates as he’s saying good-bye to Peggy. Sharon and he had decided to hire a nurse to help with her worsening condition (Steve can’t bear to see her like that, as the serum in his body keeps him so damned fit). Peggy’s lost most of her fats, leaving her with skin and bones. Similar to what he’s seen of her for the same time. He hands the nurse a sum of money, not too little, because he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. Sharon’s reply is short and sharp, no greetings, just straight to the point:

**Just hope you know what you’re doing.**

Steve scoffs. He hasn’t known what he’s been doing for years. But Sharon shouldn’t know that. No one should.

 

* * *

 

“It’s a great, beautiful, sunny day. The perfect weather is expected to last till the end of the month!” That’s what the weather lady said on TV. As Steve hop into the bike, he sees that it’s true. The weather is perfect. You know, one where you wouldn’t expect your friend’s mansion is about to be blown up because everyone’s holding hands and out on a picnic?

Truth is, Steve would rather take this upon himself. To find and destroy Aldrich Killian by himself. Ignoring the fact that Steve has no idea where Killian currently  _is_ , he also isn’t sure he is capable of taking down an Enhanced alone. Especially seeing as he can survive a closeup explosion from an Iron Man suit.

Steve just hopes he makes it in time. According to the files, it’s one week away from the day of the attack. He has actually never been to Tony’s mansion.  _Malibu_ ,  _that’s crazy._ It’s, what, 2 days away from Washington? But Steve isn’t exactly a regular guy who takes the main road. His time as an Avenger has taught him sometimes, you just gotta take the shortcut.

Once he hits private land, Steve goes even faster, because hey, who’s watching him now? He’s still surprised when he makes record time; it’s only nightfall of the same day he’s left. To be fair, he left early. Around five thirty in the morning, when the neighborhood is still quiet, and no one will see him toss himself into the forest on a motorcycle.

He’s still riding past the rows and rows of pine trees, but the place is huge _._ Steve should’ve expected that, honestly. There are certainly photos of the mansion you can find online, and Steve has most certainly been on the receiving end of Tony’s generosity that came in the form of access to a whole  _tower_  first-hand (albeit it’s design being ugly in his eyes; he can’t deny it even as he came to call it home), but this is his private estate, where Tony actually do things in.

Swallowing, Steve parks the ( _the_ , because it’s not  _his_ ) motorcycle at the entrance. At least, he thinks it’s the entrance. It looks more like a main gate into a mall more than anything. He steps before what he believes is a door, but there is no handle to push or pull. It’s not an automatic sliding door either. There is, however, a card reader. Clearly, nothing is happening until he magically has clearance into billionaire Tony Stark’s mansion.

Steve tips his cap in case a camera is watching and he’ll hopefully be recognised. “Um. Hello?”

He waits. One second. Five. Sixty. Nothing happens.  _Shit._ He’s hit a wall _already?_ Of all the things, Steve didn’t expect problems security-wise. He’s Captain America. An Avenger. Tony Stark’s colleague. Why won’t he be granted access? Because he’s from 2023 and doesn’t have the resources he’s supposed to (duh!, an image of Tony mocks him). Again, shit. Truly, he’s feeling like he’s on the top of the world. Master Tactician and Strategist, they call him. He’ll snort at it some other time.

All of a sudden, a face pops up on the glass. It’s small and rectangular and there’s a background and oh. A screen. It was a  _screen_ . It’s Tony, his face cut off, seeming to be in the midst of arguing with someone. “Pep, I’m telling you, there is no way Captain America is standing outside  _my front door-_ -”

“Tony.”  _Stark._ His mind and mouth mixed the order up. Deep, frowning eyes turn to look at him. Yup, definitely should’ve gone with Stark. They aren’t close enough yet, not before Rogers meet the Winter Soldier and the Avengers begin raiding HYDRA bases together after the entire SHIELD incident. Steve tries for a polite smile when all he wants is to beam at his friend. “Hi.”

“Hi?” An arm pushes Tony aside lightly, and Pepper comes into view, looking much younger and hopeful than he remembers. But of course; everything was hopeful before Thanos. No, even before that. Before Siberia. Before the Accords.

“See, I told you,” she chastised Tony, but her voice is fond. They’re still dating at this point in time, Steve thinks. Then she turns to him too, and Steve can probably learn a thing or two about polite smiles from her. “Captain Rogers. A pleasure.”

“All mine, Ms Potts.”

Tony, who has been looking back and forth between them, deepens his frown. “Okay, I’m gonna have to stop you right there. Pep, honey, please hold on a moment while I try and have a conversation with the walking fossil, okay?”

He kisses her cheek, and Pepper does the same before disappearing from the frame. Tony’s full attention is on him now, arms folded. The genius inventor looks like he hasn’t slept in three days (and he probably hasn’t). “So, to what do I owe the displeasure of an unannounced visit from Captain America himself this very fine night? And do I even want to know how you have my personal address?”

Steve addresses the question that’s fresh in his head. “The files Fury gave me regarding the Avengers, it had your address listed in it.”

“Dammit, sneaky spies,” Tony mutters but otherwise, he doesn’t seem to mind. So Steve clears his throat, demanding his attention again. He’s an authority, he reminds himself. He’s supposed to sound like he’s here on business.

“Actually, it’s Fury who asked me to come. Can you let me in? There’s some classified information he asked me to share with you. Privately.”

Tony tilts his head almost mockingly, unimpressed. Steve knows a snarky reply is coming before he says a word, “The one-eyed jack didn’t bother stalking me further to find out that this - tonight, as per the tonights of every week - is my date night with my girlfriend?”

Steve winces. He did know, of course. You don’t spend months reading up files and articles and journal entries on someone(s) and  _not_ know even the smallest details. At the same time, he hasn’t expected to arrive so quickly (really, Steve’s never taught of his kind of riding as fast, but then again he hasn’t touched a bike since Siberia).

But then there is a beep, and the door slides open. Seeing that, Tony turns, frown back in place. “Hey, who allowed--  _Pep_.”

From a distance away, “Tony, we can always reschedule date night. This sounds important.” Then she reappears on screen, brushing back his hair and kissing his cheek. “I’ll be here if you need me, okay?”

“No,  _Cap_ can reschedule,” Tony whines with a pout that is, for a lack of better word, adorable. It reminds Steve of the puppy his old neighbor had, a mischievous little devil spending most of its time digging into  _their_ side of the fence, then when Steve catches it in the act it whines and give him the look. Yes, adorable indeed.

Pepper, to her credit, is unaffected. “You’re fighting a losing battle.” Then, turning to Steve, “Captain, you will find us in the basement. The stairs are past the piano.”

 _The piano._ Right. Steve nods. “I’m in your debt, Ms Potts.” Then he steps in, his heart beating uncharacteristically fast. Maybe because he’s scared to be found out? Because he is technically lying to Tony. And he’s sworn, after Siberia, that never again will he tell Tony a single lie, for his own good or not. But this  _isn’t_ after Siberia, is it? Steve has to give himself some leeway, or his mind will explode.

He doesn’t pause to stare at (admire) the interior of Tony’s home. He’s here with a  _purpose_ , for God’s sake. Steve spots the piano platform easily enough - as if anyone could miss it - and the spiral set of stairs leading down to a basement where Tony’s workshop surely is. There’s the clacking of heels, and a strawberry blonde head emerged.

“Captain,” she smiles when she sees him, and it’s genuine, unguarded. He’s missed this; the simpler times. “Tony’s waiting for you in his workshop. Told me I should sit this one out. If he’s being difficult, please give a call and I’ll be glad to help.”

He smiles back, teeth and all. Pepper has the ability to make you want to smile at her like that (and that’s probably why she is a perfect match for Tony). “Thank you, Ms. Potts.”

“Please, just Pepper would be great.”

Steve’s smile widens. “And just Steve would be perfect, Pepper.”

Then his smile falters as he recalls his primary objective -- Sure, the Mandarin is surely a cause for concern, but the whole reason he’s back here? It’s to make sure Pepper’s happy with Happy, and Tony will be okay with that. Whatever it takes, even if it’s Tony directing all the anger at Steve (he can understand, really; seeing Peggy and the legacy she left behind is amazing, but knowing he was not by her side all that time kills him).

From the basement, a muffled voice shouts, “Cap, I would  _really_ appreciate it if you stop flirting with my girlfriend. Don’t make me make JARVIS kick you out.”

And Steve  _flushes_ , because God, that hasn’t been his intention, “Um, I didn’t mean to-- I mean--”

Pepper chuckles, long since immune to Tony’s baseless threats, pushing Steve gently towards the steps. “Don’t take his words to heart, Steve.”

Muttering more apologies, Steve’s feet carry him down to the basement and  _wow_ , the space is huge, and it almost reminds him of his workspace back in the Avengers Tower and facility. There’s more touches of Tony here, Steve realises as he passes through the open door (courtesy of Pepper), seeing the paintings, photo frames, tools, cars that loitered every corner. Tony was on his stool, mumbling to himself while staring down what Steve believes is a microscope.

“DUM-E, can you be a good boy and grab me a cup of black coffee?”

The machine Steve didn’t realise could move squeaks in what may be a nod, wheeling its way to the mini kitchen where three coffee maker sits. Tony scribbles something on a sticky bite, and drops the pen, turning to face Steve.

“Hey, Cap.”

“Stark,” Steve nods, pulling off his cap because what is the point of wearing it in Tony’s workshop (it’s not a trick question; there’s none at all)? But then Tony’s looking at him funny. A beat. Then two. Steve stares back. “What?”

Tony turns away, again with that frown Steve wishes he knows the meaning behind, but never will. “Noit’snothing,” Tony mumbles in Tony Language, which easily translates to ’No, there’s something but I don’t think I want to tell you what’, something he and the rest of the Avengers have learnt soon after the Battle of New York. Instead he gestures to a spare tool under one of the work desks, which Steve pulls out to sit on.

The silence is awkward, broken first by Tony, who huffs. “So, Fury sent you here? What was oh so very important that he decided he had to send Captain America to my house and interrupt my date night?”

Best to get straight to the point, right? Stick to the business, and there’s a smaller chance of him screwing this up. “It’s regarding the Mandarin.”

Tony tenses at that, sitting straighter, jaw tightening. “SHIELD’s onto Mandarin? Dammit, and Rhodey _just_  told me not to get involved. Well, whatevers. J, could you pull up info on the Mandarin I was looking over earlier?”

There’s no answer. Tony wait all but one second. “J? Oh, yeah,” Tong curses. “JARVIS, override DateNight protocol master code zero-nine-two-seven, effective immediately. Speak to me, bud.”

JARVIS’ voice seems to come from every corner of the workshop, blanketing them. “Reboot complete. All systems back online. Glad to be of service, sir.”

“DateNight protocol?” Steve can’t help but inquire.

Tony shrugs. “Yeah, well. Some privacy for us, and JARVIS. No one likes to see their Mom and Dad make out, right?”

“That was a very mature decision on your end, sir. I am proud of you,” JARVIS says dryly.

“Thanks, J. Daddy loves you too,” Tony answers just as drly. “Now, can you bring up all that stuff about the Mandarin for me?”

“Certainly.”

Data is pulled up on the screens as Steve lets himself enjoy the banter between Tony and his AI. While Vision had definitely grown to become one of Steve’s close comrade and friend he’d trust to watch his six, he and JARVIS simply shared similar knowledge and the same voice. Vision never interacted with Tony like this (neither did he and Tony, but Steve tries not to think about that).

Tony is so visibly stiff as he looks at all the words, images, videos. It’s obvious it’s not the first time he’s seeing them; possibly the dozenth, at least. Steve’s certain a good percentage of what he’s looking at is confidential material, but knows by now that it’s not something worth questioning. Instead, he settles for a raised brow,  _Really?_ and Tony raises his own,  _Really._

Steve reaches into his chest pocket for the SHIELD flash drive he’d inputted information on the Mandarin. It’s one of Peggy’s flash drive, actually; she’d be kind enough to help him with the tech… Because let’s face it, all the tech stuff… It was just more Tony. Steve can admit he’s not good with  _machines_.

There is an outstretched arm and an open palm, silently asking for the flash drive. “Sir?” JARVIS sounds as though he is in awe. Over what, Steve will likely never be able to guess. Instead, he drops the flash drive on Tony’s waiting palm, watches as he wrinkles his nose, praying nothing will give away the fact that this is all just  _Steve_ and not really SHIELD. Tony looks over the device, snorting.

“Damn, this is one old model.  _This_  is why SHIELD can’t keep their files safe. Jesus, someone ought give their engineers some lessons.” Tony inserts the flash drive into a drive reader Steve has no idea where he retrieves from and grins when the drive lights up. “Good thing I have everything here, eh. J, help me break down the data in here, will you?”

For what Steve thinks may be the first time ever, JARVIS doesn’t answer Tony immediately. But because he’s Tony’s creation, the creator doesn’t have to repeat himself before the AI catches on. “Of course. Just one moment, Sir.”

The room brightens further as the data Steve brought with him overlaps with Tony’s existing data. He’s spent nearly a month alone just filtering out data that was gathered after Tony’s disappearance, creating a new folder and carrying over common knowledge and speculations and  _statistics_ , which he knows is the key to convincing anyone who is objective and stares at numbers for a living.

Rather than just the usual plain white text and blue glowing edges, there are information that are greyed, some in red, some green lit. Steve recognises Tony’s (or more like international) colors; those in grey are unconfirmed theories, red are proven wrong by reliable sources, and green… Well, green obviously means Tony has some kind of master plan that involves blowing up things approved.

Tony hums as he looks across screen to screen, article to article, picture to picture. His brows pinch together, deep in thought. Steve really hopes what he’s given is good enough. Another part of him, the part that admires the genius, thinks he may have given too much.

“J, can you analyse this,” Tony points at a green lit video, “this, and this? See if the readings match up.” The rest of the stuff are cleared as JARVIS begins working. As a loading screen appears, Tony turns to Steve, and he recognises the skeptical look.

“How did SHIELD manage to get all this info before I did? Even JARVIS didn’t dig up some of these.” Tony actually sounds offended at the possibility that SHIELD is doing its job.  _Um, because these data technically has yet to be discovered?_  Clearly, that isn’t the ideal answer.

“And why come to me with all this when they have, like, an army of Agents to do the work?”

That one is easy. Steve shrugs, trying to make himself stiff and his voice one that is strictly professional. “You’re the Avengers’ official consultant. Fury decided it’d be a waste not make use of whatever resources he can get his hands on.”

Tony scrunches up his nose. “That  _does_ sound like the old snake. So, care to share what SHIELD is going to do with the information I am able to provide? Assemble the Avengers?”

“There may be Enhanced involved, Stark.” Steve feels the need to stress that, knowing that Tony is already thinking of the ways he intends to use his tech to contribute. “At least, that’s what all we have now is pointing to. But we’re -- the Avengers… After the Chitauri invasion… Fury mentioned that there  _are_ people watching us.”

“You don’t think it’s wise that we get ourselves in this,” Tony bites out, posture stiff again, and Steve promises himself to  _never_ bring up the invasion again without good reason. Tony’s hidden it well for years, but looking back, Steve doesn’t know how he missed all the signs that the invasion had changed Tony.

Steve nods. “The information has to be sent to Fury anonymously, so no one will know you were involved, or they’d think the Avengers are onto something. He’ll handle it from there.” When Tony doesn’t relax, he adds, “They’ll let us know if they need help, Stark. I promise.”

“ _I_ _promise_ ,” Tony snorts as he imitates Steve, and did he actually sound a tad desperate like that? He supposes it doesn’t really matter; Tony looks more like himself now. “Fine.  _I_   _promise_  I won’t get involved directly. But only because Rhodey told me the same thing just earlier today.”

That’s good enough for Steve. They stare at each other in silence. Tony’s eyes seem to darken over the seconds until his gaze becomes somewhat intense. Steve swallows, wondering if he should say something. As if sensing his discomfort(though that is obviously impossible; they can both see the loading bar progress), JARVIS speaks up then. “Sir, the analysis is complete.”

The eye contact is broken, and Steve feels himself sigh in relief. “Alright, J. Show me what you got.”

A face appears on screen. Aldrich Killian. All known info about the man spreads out across the screen. “Analysis results suggest that there is a 98% chance that Aldrich Killian is behind the face we know as the Mandarin.”

In just a few minutes, with information that Steve brings from the future - collated by Tony himself, they’ve reached an answer. And Steve, once again, finds himself impressed by JARVIS, meaning he is impressed by Tony. This man, his creations, the way his mind works, everything about him... is just… He’s just so  _amazing_. It’s so easy to see that, when he isn’t busy being on guard and exasperated by Tony.

Then, even without his super hearing, Steve hears Tony suck in a loud, hitched breath. “Pep?  _Pepper_.”

Pepper’s face appears on screen. “Tony? Tony, what’s wrong? Do you need me? I’m coming right now.”

Steve’s by his side in a second, helping him down on a stool. Tony’s pale as a sheet. “Tony? Tony, breathe.”

“Sir,” JARVIS sounds worried, which  _cannot be good,_  “You are--”

“Hush, J. Don’t make me mute you, buddy. I’m fine. I’m okay. It’s nothing. Just.” He clutches his arc reactor, and  _crap_ , Steve’s used to the Tony that’s gone through the surgery, doesn’t need to rely on the core for survival, and--

“Cap?” Tony’s touch startles him out of his panic, and Steve realises his breathing is uneven. Why is Steve panicking when Tony is the one that needs his help? He feels himself being gently pushed onto the same stool Tony had been sitting on just seconds before. “Hey, pal. You need to breathe.”

 _Breathe_ . Right, Steve can do that. The loud thudding in his ears cease, and there’s Tony, frowning at him. Next to him stands Pepper, looking equally concerned. Gods, he hasn’t even heard Pepper come down? What is  _wrong_ with him?

“Cap, you okay?” Tony’s rubbing his shoulders in soothing circles, and wow, it feels good. Steve actually closes his eyes and allows himself to enjoy the sensation for a few guilt filled moments, before nodding and leaning away from the touch.

“I’m okay. Sorry about that. What about you? Are you okay?”

Tony snorts in a say that cannot be interpreted any other way. “Well, not proud of it but seems I just had a panic attack because our guy here--” he nods at the large, smiling picture of Aldrich Killian -- “had been  _flirting_ with my girlfriend just this afternoon.”

Pepper rubs down his arm even as she manages to roll her eyes at him. “Tony, he was just here to share his project with me.” Steve can’t help but notice she looks a little pale too. He recognises the fear, the worry, and anger. “If it helps, he called it Project Extremis.”

“Project Extremis. Right. That sounds familiar. J, keep a note on that, will you? Send that along with the rest.”

“Promptly, Sir.” JARVIS sounds like he has more to say, but is wise enough to keep it to himself. Steve wishes he had the AI’s tact, then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten into so many fights.

Tony still looks shaken, but slightly more composed. “Gods, Pep. What if he -- What if he’d tried to take you? And  _Happy_ , shit--”

Steve realises then, that  _right_ , Pepper had met up with the man in Stark Industries just hours ago. Of course they’d be shaken. Steve knows no one in this room dies today, but they, they don’t. It’s common knowledge, for God’s sake. Without thinking, he reaches out, grasping Tony’s trembling hands, hoping to ease him with the touch.

“Nothing’s going to happen, Tony, I swear. I --  _SHIELD_ won’t let it.”

The two stare at him, because how can Steve be so confident, so sure? How can he have so much faith? (Because he’s from the future). Then Pepper snaps out of it first, because of course she does, “Steve’s right, Tony. I already called Happy and made him swear to me that he’s headed home now. He’s in the city. He’s safe. I’m safe. You’re safe too, okay? We’re all safe; we’re right here with you.”

Tony’s hand tighten around his; Steve watches his apple bob as he swallows. “Yeah-- Yeah, you’re right, Pep. It’s gonna be okay, right? God, that was so stupid. Just pretend you--”

“Sir,” JARVIS’ voice is like the calm before the storm, “There is an incoming MMS from Mr. Hogan. Would you like to view it now?”

“From Happy? Shit, yes, bring it up, right now J.”

A blurry image of the back of a posh looking car appears on screen. Beneath it is a message attached: Killian’s car’s license plate number, boss. Snapped a shot as they left the company. Tony’s eyes sparkled as his lips finally splits into a grin.

“ _Attaboy_. JARVIS, enhance that image and add it to the list. And tell Happy to watch his back, okay? I want him reporting to work at six tomorrow, no excuses.”

“Consider it done, Sir,” the AI answers. A short few seconds later (Steve knows, because he hasn’t begun to feel  _awkward_ ), “I have sent the compiled information to Nick Fury’s personal email address. Here is a copy of the attached information.”

All three of them read through the email that’s already been sent, and Steve briefly wonders what is the point of looking back at something that cannot be undone, before he recalls that’s what he’s been doing for more than half his life.

“So, you sure Fury’s gonna get all this? In private?”

Steve nods, confident. Only it’s not to  _Fury_ , they’d actually sent it to Sharon, who will play it off like she stumbled across the information, then spoonfeed it to Fury. “ _An anonymous email came into my inbox this morning,”_ and through Sharon, they won’t be able to trace back to Tony, and hence will not trace back to him. No one will ever know Steve’s behind everything. God, he suddenly feels exhausted.

“One hell of a date night,” Tony’s lips curl into a wry smile, and leans into Pepper for a not quite hug. The imperfect image just makes Steve see how they fit each other so well together. Pepper is everything Tony needs to keep him grounded; how can he take that from him? Then the sleep deprived gaze is turned to him, “Cap, you in a rush? Might wanna stay over tonight.”

When Steve just stares dumbly, “Or not. I forgot you’re a big boy. It’s just dark, and y’know, someone may be out there watching.”

Tony’s worried, Steve realises. He’s trying to brush it off like nothing, but Steve can see it now, clear as day. They’ve parted peacefully after the Battle of New York, but Steve doesn’t recall being close enough to call Tony a friend yet. Or maybe this is just the engineer’s personality. Probably reading too much into it. Yup. Plus, Steve  _is_ carrying a backpack with 3 days’ worth of clothes, having expected to meet some form of obstacle. When you’re used to obstacles, things feel too good to be true when they run smooth, like now.

Alright, Steve’s convinced. He’ll stay over to ensure everything is going along  _perfectly_  (or, that is to say, to make sure Tony will have the extra help if anything does happen - which is what he’s expected from the start).

“Okay. If you’re fine with it, I’d love to spend the night over.”

He’s almost surprised by the way Tony seems to light up at his response.

“You are? I mean. Great. Shower’s upstairs. You can go ahead first, yeah? Pep, you cool with that?”

Pepper gives Steve a warm smile. “Of course. It’s the least we can do.”

That’s how Steve ends up spending a night in Tony’s house in Malibu, nearly ten years in the past, ten years since it’s destroyed.

 

* * *

 

Steve takes the couch. Of course he did - Tony’s mansion is private, and there is only one master bedroom, which is somewhat of a relief to know. Even then, the couch is long and big and comfy enough that it passes as a single bed. Steve wakes up comfortable, and he notices the sun is high in the sky. Usually, he’ll be awake before dawn to check on Peggy, then head for a jog, and prepare breakfast for the both of them.

“Good morning, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS greets the moment he sits up. “It is currently 11:24am, and the temperature is a warm 80 Fahrenheit. The sky is expected to remain clear throughout the day.”

“Thanks for the forecast, JARVIS. Good morning to you, too.”

Something hot presses against his cheek, and Steve jumps. There’s a chuckle, and oh, it’s just Tony offering him a cup of coffee. “Morning, Rogers. It’s annoying how you look perfect even when sleeping, so you get black coffee.”

Black coffee. Steve accepts it with thanks, holding the warm cup in his hands. Yes, he does briefly recalled being served black coffee for weeks when he first moved into the tower. Was that all Tony? Steve doesn’t actually mind the bitter taste; he’s a man from the 40s, after all. Bitter’s something he can take.

Surprisingly, Tony flops next to him as he takes the first sip of the coffee (it’s not black; Tony had added sweetener, and that’s… kinda sweet, Steve thinks). They share a somewhat comfortable moment without words. Then again Steve knows that silence never lasts long with Tony.

“How’s the coffee?”

“Mm, it’s good. I’m not surprised you use high quality beans.” Steve has always appreciated coffee, of course. But after working at the cafe, he’s come to understand the different types of blends, ways to brew, how to guess what kind of coffee a customer likes…

Tony hums, a pleased tone. In his hand, he holds his personal cup. Steve recognises it; it’s the only cup Tony ever drinks from when he can help it. Is it just him or is Tony sitting a little closer? Their shoulders bump into each other’s, Steve can smell Tony’s strong black coffee, feel his body heat. Is this the first time they’ve ever sat like this, the two of them? “Glad to hear that you like the coffee. Jarvis always had the best brew, even back then.”

Steve’s eyes widen. Tony’s  _never_ talked about Jarvis in front of the team. Or at least when Steve was around. Everything he knows he read from files. “Jarvis… As in the human butler Jarvis?”

“Yeah.” Tony drains his cup and sets it on the coffee table then twists his body to face Steve, the couch crumpling beneath his weight. One leg is curled over the other, his hands now pressing onto his knuckles tight enough Steve sees the skin turn red, but not knuckles gone white. Then, almost hesitantly (because Tony is a force of nature in his own way, he never hesitates on something he’s decided on), Tony leans forward, slow enough that Steve can run if he wants, but why would he do that?

The first touch of their lips is light as feather, Tony because he’s actually  _hesitant_ , and Steve because he isn’t sure this is happening, isn’t sure this isn’t an illusion cast by Loki or some other God of Mischief in existence. This is different from New York; there isn’t a life at stake, no urgency in fighting against time to pump air into a lifeless body.

Tony edges closer, pressing more firmly when Steve doesn’t react negatively, and Steve relaxes as Tony mouths at him. It’s gentle, unlike anything Steve expects, but it’s… Oddly nice? Within seconds, Tony pulls away, but not completely, just enough to whisper in Steve’s ear, beard scratching his cheek,

“I’m not good with words, I guess y’know that by now. This is to thank you for kinda indirectly saving us from Killian, and for back then.”

Then, leaning back so their eyes meet, he looks more like himself, a tiny smirk on his lips, “You know, when you _kissed_ me?”

Steve shouldn’t blush because that’s  _exactly_ what Tony expects to see, but he fails. “Jesus, Stark,” he mumbles without real heat. Before he can think better, “Where’s Pepper?”

Tony’s smile dim, then immediately brightens again, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, doesn’t make them shine. “On a plane to Hawaii for an interview? We talked, last night. Alot. Some shouting I’m amazed you slept through. We, uh, decided we’re taking a break.” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, and Tony gives a (fake) light-hearted shrug.

“I convinced her of it. I’m a handful, and now I’m even more dangerous to be around. Anywhere is safer than being with me now, and she _has_ to be safe. It’s the right call, Cap.”

But then he’s giving Steve a pleading look, one that tells him Tony can barely convince himself, one that easily translates to  _Please tell me you support me.That I made the right choice._ Steve would know. Tony’s made the exact same expression years ago; only then, Steve had chosen to stand on the other side of the line. This time, he’ll make a different choice.

Steve cups Tony’s cheek, gazing into his eyes, trying to communicate his support. “I know you did what you think is best, Tony. If Pepper was willing to go, she must trust and respect your decision too.”

Something shifts in Tony’s eyes, but before Steve can guess what, he lowers his gaze and sniffs once. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Then he backs away fully, arm’s length like they usually sit.

“Of course I made the right call. I’m a genius, after all.”

And  _of course_ Tony will try to pretend he doesn’t have feelings by acting tough. Steve will allow it, just this time. He’s missed all of these interactions more than he had been willing to admit. Things have been so hard for too long, he’s forgotten what it’s like to breathe easy. “Sure you are, Tony.”

Tony pouts. “I don’t like that tone. J, buddy, turn on the news, will you? Let’s show the Capsicle how much of a genius I really am.”

The AI doesn’t answer, but the flat screen TV turns itself on to the local news channel, where the reporter with overly thick makeup and a look of false interest is standing next to none other than Aldrich Killian himself. The man has his cuffed hands held high, head held low as the reporter bombards him with question about the Mandarin, Project Extremis and his conspiracy with the Vice President.

“See that? JARVIS was right, meaning  _I’m_ right. I’m a genius.”

Tony is preening, and Steve doesn’t have the heart to chastise him. So he just smiles. “Yes, yes, Mr. First-Name-Genius Stark.”

“Maybe you’re not that much a Capsicle as I thought. To celebrate my genius,  _you’re_ going to make me breakfast. My old man always did say you could whip up the, I quote, ’Most spectacular dishes’.”

Steve nearly drops the cup he’s forgotten he still holds.  _Howard, what on Earth…_ Everyone, and Steve means  _everyone_ , keeps him away from the kitchen. Within 3 days of moving into the tower, Tony had equipped every working piece of machinery in the kitchen with Anti-Steve codes, making them zap when they feel Steve’s fingers curl around them (somehow, it happens even with gloves; technology is incredible).

But Tony looks at him expectantly, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as though he has an idea of what Howard meant by  _spectacular._ He stops thinking, shrugs, and stands, biting down on his own smile. “Alright, then. Just don’t regret it later!”

As they sit, sharing a surprisingly casual breakfast (Tony simply scrunches up his face with every bite, it’s nothing Steve hasn’t seen before), Steve’s phone vibrates on the couch with a message from Sharon:

**She’s getting worse. They’re moving her to a retirement home. 3pm.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnd here's a little cliffhanger. i didn't expect one scene to take up 6k words; i originally wanted to include a bit more of steve heading back to peggy's for more plot, but this seems like a good place to stop! i hope you like the subtle domesticity i slid in this chapter. pepper only agreed to give tony space because she knows tony's become part of something bigger, and instead of waiting till AoU/CACW periods to take a break, tony decides to talk about it now. all because of what steve has done in the past.  
> please let me know what you think in the comments! <3


	5. I love you 3000 (and more)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue draft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, everyone! first of all, sorry for the long delay! i've not forgotten about this fic for a second; i've just been going through over 200 pages worth of stony fics on ao3! and that's made me realise there's so many things i want to write for stony that i feel i've already steered from in this fic. as such, i've quite selfishly decided i will be taking a break from it. i'm not dropping it (don't worry!!), just need to come back one day soon to rewrite it now that i've seen all the possibilities this pairing holds for me!
> 
> i'm so grateful to everyone who's read the fic thus far, please have the epilogue draft i've been preparing since chapter 1. a lot of details are deliberately left out, as they would spoil the contents of the fic. i hope you enjoy!

**Epilogue Draft (Please read chapter notes!)**

 

_“I love you 3000.”_

 

-

 

It’s a little past two in the dead of the night, but neither Steve nor Tony dare to shut their eyes and go to sleep, still somewhat in disbelief that after everything, they still have each other. They lay together on Tony’s bed, loosely wrapped in each other to avoid applying pressure to the areas where they’re injured, but close enough to feel their partner’s warmth. In a rare moment of peace, Steve recalls a conversation from (not that) long ago. 

“I do wonder, at times.”

Tony hums, plucking at a loose string of the bandage around his arm. Steve swats his hand away with a disapproving frown. “About what?”

“Like, what if there weren’t any superpowers involved.”

Tony turns back to look at him, a brow raised. But Steve can tell he’s amused. “Time travelling isn’t crazy enough, now you wanna talk about fiction-like alternative universes? Damn, Rogers. Didn’t know you were such a dreamer.”

“C’mon, Tony,” Steve pulls the man closer to him, setting his head on Tony’s shoulder and closing his eyes. It’s easy to forget the cuts and bruises over his body when he feels like this. At peace.  “Just imagine. If the world _was like this_ from the moment we met.”

Not perfect, of course, but it _is_ perfect, because of the people he’s met. The people he’s had the honor of meeting.

Steve feels the vibrations as Tony hum thoughtfully. “Well, the world wouldn’t be the way it is if I wasn’t who I was. Who I am. I’d say I’m pretty okay with how this universe turned out.”

“Yeah?” He thinks he understands what Tony is trying to say. There are days, really rare ones, where adrenaline is coursing through his veins and he cannot rest, his mind needing to run. Those days are when Steve allow himself to wonder, to imagine what life would’ve been like if he’d woken up in the future to learn that the war is over, he can go and live his life a free man. A common man, as common as he can be, because he’d be the weirdest thing science had ever created, and he would be fine with that.

Tony turns to look at him with those honey chocolate eyes, “Yeah. You’re here with me now, aren’t you?” And he is just so beautiful no invasion could’ve stopped Steve from leaning in for a kiss right then. 

They never did tell Steve the cost that comes with war, but now he’s seen. He’s lived through it. And it’s all that experience that has brought him here. He can’t lie and say this is the best outcome, the one his optimistic self has envisioned so long ago, but he’ll take what he can get. And what he can get right now is in his arms, and Steve thinks he’s pretty damn lucky, all things considered.

 

**-**

 

The topic of marriage comes unexpectedly, just two weeks after the battle, as the world is still recovering from its loss. The Avengers (all six of the original team, because they sent the rest on _vacation_ , they aren’t responsible for the beginning nor the end) are forced to ‘get their asses off the field or be put down forcibly’, and Nick Fury is really quite terrifying when he wants to be, so they listen. But things are hard when you’re a superhero - what did you do when you didn’t have a world to save? 

Let’s watch a movie, Tony had suggested. 

So they sit in the living area, eyes glued to the screen stretching almost 2 metres long, watching The Incredibles, because they can’t deny they’re practically a family by now (also because Steve thinks he will be able to relate to Mr. Incredible, and being Tony’s boyfriend has its advantages, but no one points _that_ out).

“This is such a grossly _domestic_ movie to watch,” Clint mutters fifteen minutes into the film as he shoves chips into his mouth. Nosily, lower lip pushed out in a pout. Like a petulant child. His head is on Bruce’s shoulders, the latter’s hand in his hair, and no one misses the irony of the situation. 

Natasha, of course, calls him out on it. She’s sprawled out on the floor, massaging Clint’s calf that he’s spread on the coffee table, legs over Bruce’s. She simply applies more pressure to her ‘massage’, and Clint cries out.

“ _Nat_ , what the hell!”

“Shut up and enjoy the movie,” she threatens in a soft tone, a smile curving her lips, neither of which making her any less dangerous. “Or I’ll tell Laura to burn your Lord of the Ring figurine collection.”

He pales almost comically; Steve bites down on his cheeks to stop from breaking into a goofy grin, while on his lap Tony just bursts out laughing. “Jesus Barton, you look ridiculous. I hope you caught an image of that, J.”

“Of course, Sir,” the ever attentive AI answers, tone one of amusement.

“Ah, JARVIS. Ever the efficient one,” Thor praises with a smile. The camera above the TV nods in greeting.

“You’re all ganging up on me!” Clint digs his face into Bruce’s shoulder. “We have the worst team Mom _ever_.” 

Tony takes one exact minute to stop laughing long enough to answer in a mock serious voice, “Careful there, Sonny, or you won’t be invited to our wedding and end up being known as the prodigal son."

Clint just sticks his tongue out, “Like you’d even notice me in my stealth mode. I’ll disguise myself and tell everyone about your sex life!”

“Like my sex life has ever been private,” Tony beams proudly. “But you’ll have no one to tell, because the wedding would be private. Everyone invited would know _exactly_ how awesome we are in the bedroom.”

There’s a collection groan throughout the room and a “Christ, Tony, this is a _family_ friendly movie, we’re lucky Parker isn’t here” from Bruce that Steve almost misses because his heart is thumping so loud, so wild he’s amazed he can still hear them at all. 

“Tony,” Steve breathes, because he’s still in disbelief. “You _want_ to get married?”

And Tony seems to get the wrong idea, he still usually does. He stiffens in Steve’s arms, already trying to squirm himself out and away from the couch. “Uh.” Then, softly, “Fuck. You don’t?” Clearing his throat, in a louder voice, “I mean, of course you don’t. That was just a scenario y’know. You don’t have to take it seriously."

“What?” That’s just ridiculous, and Steve pulls Tony into a super hug. He’s gotten better at those, hugs that make them both feel warm and content that don’t actually hurt anyone. “No! I mean, yes! I mean-- I _do_ want to get married. To you, Tony. I want to get married _to you._ ”

“Oh.” Tony seems to go complete slack upon hearing that, letting himself go limp in Steve’s arms. “Thank fuck. Thought I was gonna be rejected before I could even get out the ring.”

Steve’s grin is ear splitting. “You got me a ring?”

Tony’s red down his neck, and he groans. “Fuck you, Rogers.”

“Any time, Tony.” He means it, hoping his words convey his sincerity. 

Judging by the way the entire room (including Tony, though his eyes are bright) groans in unison, Steve thinks himself successful. 

 

**-**

 

The wedding _is_ private. There are lesser people here than Steve is used to, but then again, that was before everything went to shit. Compared to the last gathering he’s been around, this is… good. Better than good. It’s his wedding day, after all. 

He’s in a suit of Tony’s colors - gold, and red. And Tony, vice versa. At least, he _thinks_ that’s how it works. Steve hasn’t exactly been contributing or giving a say as far as aesthetics are concerned; that’s Tony’s natural element, and Steve’s more than happy to indulge his soon-to-be husband (God, his _husband_ ).

He’s in the waiting room, being ’done up pretty’, and his palms are sweaty and gosh, why is he so _nervous_? Sam laughs as he dabs at the beads on his forehead, only for more to take its place.

“Don’t worry, Steve. It’s just you and Tony, and _us_.”

And when it’s put that way, _yeah_. Yeah, Sam’s right. It’s a ceremony with just them, the team, the family. They’re here to make something that has been happening… Official. That’s what this is. He clings to that thought. 

Steve smiles, squeezing Sam’s wrist once. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime, pal.” 

It doesn’t stop Steve from tearing up when Tony walks down the aisle, arm in Rhode’s (there’s no one else more fitting). As he’d suspected, Tony’s in his colours - red, blue, white. Not America’s colors, but _his_ , Steven Grant Roger’s, like how he’s in Tony’s, and not Iron Man’s. Once, they’d been unable to differentiate each other from their alter-egos.

 _Big man in a suit of armor._ Steve had said that, once. 

 _Every special about you came out from a bottle._ Tony had shot back, then. 

They had been so wrong about each other, and so what if took a war, a snap, sacrifices, _years,_ for them to come to this point? They have so many flaws, but so God help him, Steve will do it all again in a heartbeat.

His eyes fall to Tony’s cufflinks, and he breaks into an almost laugh through his blurring vision. Tony smirks when he sees what Steve’s noticed - the dick shaped cufflinks Tony’d _sworn_ he’d wear. Steve’s own cufflinks are relatively PG; it’s a palette, because art has been the one consistency in his life. And even now, his heart warms that Tony understands.

Rhodes’ own eyes are misty when he passes Tony to Steve with two hard pats to their joined hands. “Take care of my best friend.”

In a choked voice, “I swear.”

“We’re not the vows yet!” Someone shouts, and there’s laughter that resounds within the small hall.

Nick Fury clears his throat, and they repeat the vows. More tears pool at the corner of his eyes when Tony looks him in the eye, and says “I do”, but the tears fall freely when they exchange rings, because the rings were melted and molded from his dog tags, with his carved ‘Tony’ and Tony’s carved ‘Steve’. They kiss, one of the softest exchanges between the two, and their family erupts in cheers. 

In a voice Steve thinks is filled with awe and pride, Fury announces, “I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

They part to loud applause, pressing their noses together, breathing each other in. Tony already has a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hello, Mr. Steve Rogers-Stark.”

Steve smiles, pressing his lips against Tony’s again. “Hello, Mr. Tony Stark-Rogers.”

This is in no way an ending; the second half of their lives has barely begun.

 

**-**

 

The second half of their lives, as one may expect, isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. They stick with the team, reasoning it with ‘They need time to adjust. Just a little longer’ when all it’s really about is that they aren’t ready to part with all _this._ War has never been their choice, and the world will only ever truly be at peace when something like the Avengers need not exist, but they have found home in each others’ presence, and no one is quite willing to just let go yet. 

It takes a little more than a decade before they figure a way to neutralise the effects of the Super Serum. There are risks - there’s always risks in science and experiments - but when they think about the reward and how there’s technically nothing much left to lose, they approach it light-heartedly. And maybe it’s some faraway God who takes pity on them, or maybe Tony’s just that much of a genius (Tony _insists_ on that), but the process is smooth and the effects are immediate.

Steve will never forget Tony’s laugh when he sees the first signs of age catching up to the super soldier in the form of a single wrinkle across his forehead. It’s one of those moments Steve captures in his sketchbook when Tony’s gone to sleep and he knows he won’t be caught in the act. This particular sketchbook is a private one, something Steve hopes he can keep to himself in this world that isn’t quite his. 

The team, supportive in a way only they can be, congratulate the couple. They have a party, one lasting two days and three nights, however impossible it may sound. There are no tears as Steve and Tony finally retire from the Avengers team, only smiles and laughter and warmth and love. 

They move to a quiet place, off the grid, for retirement. The press do what they do best - they _press_ , but the Avengers have also made some connections with powerful news stations, who convey their blessings and swear to keep reporters off their backs. Steve thinks that’s largely thanks to Pepper, and he thinks Tony knows that too, but that’s just one of the many things they’re content with keeping to themselves. 

They adopt two dogs - Steve gets to name one and Tony the other, it’s only fair - and a baby girl. When Tony suggests to name their daughter ‘Morgan’, Steve has to turn away and hold back his tears. Tony doesn’t ask - he _knows_. Tony always knows. He simply stands there in silent support, because Steve always shares when he is ready to. And he will, even if that time is not now. 

 

-

 

The nightmares never truly stop. Even now, albeit rarely, Tony dreams of the Chitauri, of the world’s end, of stepping into a battle 87.4% sure that it will be his end. But Steve is always there when Tony wakes, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. He will hold Tony close, remind Tony who he is, that he’s safe, they’re here and only this is real. 

For Steve, well, it’s a little more complicated, seeing as he’s literally a man out of his time, his _world_ now even. And that’s the one thing that truly haunts him. Steve’s never forgotten who he really is. He never lets himself forget that he comes from a different timeline, messed this one up (too, the darkness in his mind adds) with his good intentions, and found his way to Tony (but at what cost?). That the time he has now is stolen, that one day this will all catch up to him. 

He never forgets what really happens after New York. Not Ultron, not finding out what Bucky did and keeping the truth from Tony, not the Accords, not Siberia, not the time he spent as a fugitive in Wakanda. 

Not the way he felt when the burner phone had rung, the way his stomach lurched at the thought that _something was wrong_ , and hearing Bruce on the other end, telling him that _Tony and a wizard had gone to space_. 

He can never forget the first time he’s had his arms around Tony in two years, looking so thin, hollow, _fearful_. Can’t forget the hurtful words exchanged, even when (because) the Earth is already damned and there’s nothing left to lose. 

The temporary truce five years later. 

Tony’s lifeless eyes before Steve can make things right between them again. 

“Steve.” Tony’s voice, gentle but firm. Something warm presses against his ear, then again at his neck, his forehead, over his shut lids. Tony. 

“Tony?” His voice comes out small, like the sickly boy from Brooklyn who isn’t sure whether he’ll make it through the day. Steve doesn’t dare open his eyes, like he thinks once he does, he’ll find himself alone in a dark alley, and he can’t take that. But Tony _is_ real, or so the voice coaxes, until Steve’s breathing calms. 

“Tony,” Steve says again. 

“I’m here, Steve,” the answer comes within a heartbeat. 

Now that his mind is clearer, Steve realises the sun has long since risen, now high in the sky. They’re both still under the covers, and Tony is spooning him, chest pressed against Steve’s back. His hands clasp Tony’s, toying with his wedding ring. 

“I love you.” Not thank you, or I’m sorry, because they’re way past that. 

He feels Tony smile. “Good morning to you too, Winghead.”

 

-

 

One night, when Tony comes out of Morgan’s bedroom looking somewhat helpless and in awe and so full of love, Steve thinks he knows. 

Brown eyes seek out the blue of his own, and Tony is all but whispering, “She told me she loved me 3000 times. My calculations -never wrong, by the way- tells me she loves you maybe 900 times, max? Wow.”

And Steve laughs, because now, he finally understands. He beckons Tony to join him and their two dogs on the couch, cradling him. “It’s not a competition, Tony.” 

His husband all but snorts, sinking into Steve’s arms, absent-mindedly stroking the golden retriever’s fur. "Course it isn’t."

They both know Tony will never let any of them live that down, and Steve is more than fine with that. 

 

-

 

See, the thing about Steve and Tony is that they love each other more than they hate each other, but love doesn’t cancel out hate. Disagreements and fights still happen, and even without the Avengers, seeing eye-to-eye on everything is impossible for any couple, let alone these two. 

One of their worst fights had stemmed from fear and insecurity, of the day of parting that will inevitably arrive. It’s the knowledge that comes crashing down on the darkest days, that while they have each other, they’ll never truly belong to each other. Tony had left home after dinner, and Steve had given him the space he knows Tony sometimes need. He hadn’t worried, with one of their dogs (Becky, she’s named) accompanying the man. 

Then the sun had set, the owls had awoken, and still, no Tony. Steve had paced around the field, their other retriever - E.L.L.Y (don’t ask) trotting next to him. He had been three seconds away from heading into the woods when Tony stumbled out of it, covered in mud, dried leaves, and shallow cuts. But he had been beaming, grin growing impossibly wider when he saw Steve. Becky and E.L.L.Y had barked at each other in greeting, Becky in a similar plight.

“Steve! You’d never guess what I found!” And Tony had taken him by the hand, fingers entangled, and he was led to a clearing with the most breathtaking sight of the stars he’d ever seen since he was a boy.

What did it matter that they fight? What kind of couple didn’t? Love may not cancel out hate, but love _always_ wins.

 

-

 

Sure, they’re retired, _and_ living way off the grid, but it’s not like nobody knows where they are. Steve decides to never step into a city again after year 2023, after the day he had fought Thanos in his own timeline. It’s one thing to return to the past, and another completely to see a future he has no rights to. What it’s like in the future isn’t knowledge he wants to bring back to his time. After all, the only reason he’s returned (and now decided to _stay_ ), is for one Tony Stark. 

Instead, their close friends -namely, the Avengers and those loosely related- drop by once a year for barbeque night and sleepovers. Almost like team bonding, but _better_. The humble home of the Rogers-Stark (or Stark-Rogers, doesn’t matter) family is by no means big. At least, it’s nothing close to what Steve is sure Tony’s used to, but it’s home. There’s more than enough sleeping bags and hammocks to go around, and everyone usually ends up knocked out on the picnic mat anyway. 

It’s a strange thing, watching as everyone ages. As _he_ ages with each year, as though that isn’t the norm, and isn’t that what he’s been looking for? 

One year, when Clint’s car come into view and Laura and the kids step out without him, they know. They toast to Hawkeye, to one of the best men Steve has known. 

If fewer people start showing up in the following years, Steve and Tony don’t talk about that too. Instead, they talk about how Morgan’s doing in boarding school, about which corner of the world they should escape to during her next break. And sometimes, when they find the other in a corner tear stricken, they join their husband and mourn together. 

 

-

 

Steve likes to think he’s fulfilled his promise to Pepper, to Rhodes. They’ve done everything on Tony’s bucket list (quite a feat indeed), and they’ve both aged into men with grey hair and wrinkles and dentures (Tony at least uses them, Steve still has all of his; it’s unfair, Tony will pout at least once a week). 

They go from waking at dawn to take walks together to waking at high noon to make brunch together. Their once active sex life slows to an eventual halt, where they are content with holding each other’s hands and watching the sunset together. Even then, they never forget. 

It’s Tony who’s unable to get out of bed first, one autumn morning when Morgan had been set to be back to visit with her husband. But Steve is there, as he always is. Steve is there until Tony’s final moments, when his breathing grows shallow, and Steve’s pencil never stops moving across paper. 

Tony’s last words aren’t flashy. They never are. His eyes close, and they never open again. Steve kisses the still-warm forehead, like Pepper had done oh-so-long ago.

It’s strange, how you can watch someone die twice, and feel two completely different emotions each time. 

Morgan says she’s taking the private jet home, but Steve doesn’t think he can look her in the eyes as he says his farewell. He doesn’t wipe at his face when he gently sets Tony into the flashy coffin they’d jokingly picked out together years ago. Next to it is a typical brown coffin, prepared for Steve, even though they both know there’s no place for him here. Instead, he leaves a photo of the two of them stargazing; it’s Tony’s favorite. 

Steve waits for his tears to dry before he stands, returning indoors. He turns to the wall clock, next to their wedding photo. He still has time, but maybe he’s had more than he should. It’s time to go. He slides their dresser drawer open. It’s where he keeps his favorite drawing of Tony, the first one he’s drawn ever since he’s arrived. He folds it neatly, keeping it in his shirt pocket.

Without rush, Steve goes to retrieve his suit, which still fits him to a T. He stands before the grave of his husband who shares his name, hand over the one button that will send him back where his body belongs. He’s smiling as he looks down at the band around his finger, because there _is_ something tangible that will remain, even when he’s gone.

Morgan arrives then, alone, looking so much like the little girl from when she first joined the family, Steve can’t believe he thought he’d be able to leave without seeing her one last time. They embrace, Morgan sobbing, Steve holding her. 

“Must you go?” She asks when she finally settles. 

“Oh, Sweetie.” Steve strokes her cheek, “I must.”

She doesn’t ask him to stay. Instead, Morgan beams at him, looking so much like Tony it both hurt and warm Steve at once. “Have a safe trip, Dad.”

Steve’s going home, and isn’t it strange, how he has so many places and people he associates with that single word now? His turning point in life more than a century ago might have been due to Howard Stark, but his second life begun with one genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. One who will also be known as a loving friend, father, husband.  

It shouldn’t be surprising, then, that Steve’s final words before goodbye are none other than, “I love you 3000 times and more.”

And the rest, as they say, is history.

 

**The end.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final, final part is very much under construction, as i'm unsure where stony will bring me as i continue writing. but for now, this is it for this fic!  
> i have other stony oneshots in the making, and since they're oneshots, they won't leave you hanging like this!  
> (i really am sorry.) hope to see you back here when the fic gets going again!

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't like Steve at first. Really. I was a Tony kind of person, Steve just pushed all my buttons. I liked him even less after Civil War and what he did to Tony. But I like how he said he trusted Tony. I like how he shed tears for Tony. I like how he took Tony's advice and got some life. So here we are.
> 
> I already wrote a chunk of the epilogue, it's bitter-sweet. I hope it inspires me to finish this fic. And I hope you guys will enjoy the ride. Laugh, cry, scream. Just like when we watched Endgame. Of course, it'd be even better to hear your thoughts in comments down below ♡


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